Hearts and Souls
by Outlander
Summary: A novel that I'm writing for a friend, based on her Gargoyle character, and my survivalist.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Arrival  
  
Perched high on top of the Empire States building, the Yellow Gargoyle's eyes swept over the urban jungle. Kanthara sighed in contentment. It was the first time in ages that she had been able to get away from the rest of the Manhattan clan and to have a little bit of time for herself.   
  
It still took the young Gargoyle by surprise every time she took to the air. The wings, at one time felt so alien to her. But the more she used them, the better they felt to her. Only a few short months before, she had been an ordinary human. But things changed rather drastically.   
  
She looked up into the clear night sky. The stars were all but invisible, except for the brightest of the bright. The lights shining off the city obscured the heavens. Even on a clear summer night like this, only the full moon was easily discernable.  
  
Several bright flashes of light caught her attention. She looked over at the Xanatos tower, and the Castle that was situated at its very summit. It was the original home for the Gargoyles, about a thousand years ago in the murky past. But due to the backstabbing and betrayal of their supposed benefactor, David Xanatos, they were forced to abandon their home. They now resided over, of all places, the police precinct where their human friend Elisa worked.   
  
Broadway, Brooklyn and Lexington were most likely out over the city by now, either patrolling for crime, or in Broadway's case, looking for yet another snack. The yellow Gargoyle giggled quietly, wondering what would happen if he ate a whole cow and attempted to glide the currents.  
  
The giggle disappeared, replaced by a sudden feeling of dread. Years of living on the streets of the big apple had honed her instincts to razor sharpness. And she never, ever ignored the feeling that suddenly washed over her like rain from a late fall shower. Something was happening, and it wasn't going to be good.   
  
***  
  
"Hey, Brett!" Chance called out as the scarred warrior strode into the jump chamber. "We're heading back home, got enough supplies to keep us going for years now."  
  
"Yeah, get going, I'm going to do a little more searching before I jump out," He replied, dropping several large boxes into the hexagonal shaped chamber. The small room was already filled almost to the brim with boxes, many of them baring the stamp of the US government, and the military.  
  
Matt Chance grabbed the boxes and set them aside. He took a quick look around and smiled. "Gonna be good having some books to read and new cloths. These fatigues are about ready to be torn up into rags."  
  
"You and your fireblasted books, Chance. I've never seen someone read as much as you do," Brett chuckled and stepped out of the chamber. "Ready to jump back?" He asked.  
  
Chance nodded. "Yeah, I already typed in the destination code. Ready and willing," he said and sat down in the small clearing amongst the boxes.   
  
"Tell Gitana that I'll be there in about an hour," he told the other man as he closed the heavy door.   
  
Matt Chance nodded and gave him the thumbs up, closing his eyes as the heavy door shut, the solenoids clicking solidly. Instantly the mist began to gather around the floor of the chamber, signaling the jump had been successfully initiated.   
  
The lights inside the mat-trans chamber flickered ever so slightly, causing Brett to pause. His brow furrowed and he stepped up to the control panel and studied the readouts. On the computer screen, it reported a brief power-surge and a slight variation in the quantum stream, but nothing serious. Jump was proceeding as normal.   
  
"Fireblast, weird..." He muttered and left the chamber, planning to explore more of the redoubt before jumping back.  
  
  
***  
  
David Xanatos stalked across the chamber. His face was a mask of anger, but he kept his hands clasped behind his back. "What's the delay this time?" He demanded. "Each test, each failure is costing me greatly."  
  
"Sorry sir, we had an unexpected power surge," a white-coated technician said nervously.  
Xanatos stood next to the man and rubbed his bearded chin with one hand, studying the read out. "Get someone down to the power plant and have them do a diagnostic on it. I want everything ready for the next test in two hours time. And no excuses."  
  
"Yes sir, right away sir."  
  
David was a brutally handsome man, and cut quite the imposing figure as he stood over the younger technician. He was dressed in an Armani suit, clearly worth more than what the technician made in an entire year. His hair was tied neatly back in a slight pony-tail that hung straight down, ending just below the collar of his suit. Silently, he cursed the failures they had been experiencing as he gazed at the chamber situated in the middle of the large room. It was built of clear arma-glass and was hexagonal in nature.   
  
The technicians inside the large room busied themselves with their tasks as Xanatos walked around the structure, studying ever line and running his fingers over the surface. "This will change the world as we know it," he said, smiling slightly.   
  
  
***  
  
Kanthara stared at the tower, noticing how the lights flickered for a moment then returned to their full brightness. Curiosity got the better of her and she stood. Looking down, she felt the return of the vertigo that haunted her so many times the first time she tried to use her wings. Swallowing the un-reasoning fear, she gracefully spread her wings and leapt from the side of the building. Instantly she caught one of the many eddies and glided silently over the night city.   
  
Deep down, Kanthara knew that she shouldn't go anywhere near the Xanatos tower. The billionaire had many defenses, ranging from turret mounted laser cannons to the Steel Clan. Then there were his internal guards. But those things didn't deter her one iota. The feeling of dread that she had experienced just a few moments ago seemed to get stronger as she closed in on the tower.   
  
If Goliath or any of the others spotted her, she'd be in really hot water.   
  
Swooping low, she dove between several skyscrapers to avoid one of the numerous police helicopters that frequented the nighttime sky. Her dark brown orbs caught movement behind curtains as she glided silently. Some of the things she had witnessed during her many night-time forays alternately made her laugh, or cringe.  
  
One thing she couldn't deny was that flying was so much faster than walking, or even taking public transit. Not like she'd be able to do that again, she realized darkly. Before she knew it, she had closed in on the tower.   
  
Strangely, there was no sign of the steel clan, which typically stood like silent sentinels on the parapets of the old Castle.   
  
"What are you up to, Xanatos?" Kanthara whispered to herself as she landed as lightly as a snowflake on one of the outcroppings of the ancient castle.  
  
  
***  
  
Deep inside the redoubt, Brett was going through box after box inside the cavernous sized storage room. "Hot damned," he exclaimed excitedly. "Finally!" He reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a small white teddy bear. His daughter, who was almost two years old now, would absolutely adore the fuzzy stuffed toy. He examined the toy in his hands before finally depositing it in a box that he had been carrying around with him for almost an hour.   
  
It was a new routine he had picked up every time they made a jump to get supplies from the redoubts scattered across post-holocaust America. After the birth of his daughter, he would secretly go through the storerooms, picking up toys that caught his eyes. This time, he had a small box of dolls, and stuffed animals. He shook his head and quietly chuckled at the absurdity of it. He was a warrior, a cold-hearted killer. Carrying around stuffed animals and dolls would ruin this reputation.  
  
The scarred warrior walked down the unused corridors of the ancient redoubt. Other than his old crew-mates from the days when he traveled with Trader, he and his new companions were probably the only people to have been inside the military base in almost a century.   
  
His footsteps echoed hollowly in the corridors until he finally reached the huge control chamber, which housed the gateway. He deposited the box of toys in the gateway itself before crossing over to the control panel and typing in the destination code. For a second, the codes wouldn't take. The system kept showing unusual spikes in the power readout and something seemed to be interfering with the quantum stream.   
  
The read-outs caused the man to pause. Twice in the past he had found himself flung through the time-stream. The first time he visited the future, meeting with a white-coat who had been born in the nineteen fifties. Here he had learned what the future had in store for his home territory. Since that fateful jump, he and his companions had traveled to the Western Isles, what was left of California. During the trip, he had formulated a plan to see if he and his people could in any way prevent the events that were to occur within two years time.   
  
Part of those plans included setting up a base of operations out of the remains of the United States, and mapping the gateways that were still active. The second time things had gone wrong were when they had jumped and found themselves trapped in the past, only days before the Skydark.   
  
Brett rubbed the day old stubble on his chin and stared at the screen. "Should I wait?" He said out loud. A rumble worked its way up from the bottom of his stomach. He sure did feel hungry. This particular redoubt had a fully stocked messhall, but this was one of the times he didn't actually feel like eating the MRE's. He knew that a meal of steamed vegetables and fresh fish was waiting for him back home with his companions.   
  
"Fuck it," he swore, seeing that the fluctuations had settled down. He entered the six-sided gateway and closed the door tightly. The effects of the jump began almost instantly. As he sat, he straightened the battered old baseball cap that rested on his head. The cap had a single emblem on it, depicting a three-headed dog. He had long ago learned that the dog stood for Cerberus, the supposed guardian to the gates of hell. It was one of the myths that the white-coats had adopted in naming the Matter Transmitters, or gateways, that they had created.   
  
The story behind the cap didn't impress him, he just liked it. As the mists of the jump gathered around him, he felt the effects shutting down his mind. Numbly he ran his hands over his blasters and knives, making sure they were all secured and ready to be used at a seconds notice before the darkness took him.  
  
  
***  
  
"We're ready to initiate the next test, Sir." The young white-coated scientist called out.  
Xanatos walked over to the six-sided chamber and peered intently inside. "All the diagnostics on the power plant came up green?" He asked impatiently.  
  
"Yes sir, everything is a go."  
  
David Xanatos backed off from the chamber and nodded curtly. "The test boxes are in place, feel free to initiate the transmission."  
  
The scientists swallowed nervously as he hit enter on the keyboard. Instantly the panels on the ceiling and floor of the hexagonal chamber began to glow, and a mist seemed to flow up from the panels. Xanatos watched, fascinated. He knew that the mist was only a simple byproduct of the quantum mechanics behind the matter transmission. "What's the status?"  
  
Two other scientists stood nearby, watching the computers like hawks. One had a laptop open on a desk. "Everything is green, sir. The quantum gateway is opening as predicted."  
  
Xanatos clasped his hands behind his back and stood as still as a statue, watching the proceedings.   
  
"The test boxes have been successfully transmitted!" Called out the head scientist, his voice filled with excitement. He leaned over and studied the computer printout and picked up a phone. "Yes," a pause, "Everything is intact? No sign of degradation?" Again, another brief pause. "Excellent! Send them to the laboratories for further testing!"  
  
The scientist turned and grinned at Xanatos who had moved up to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder. "So, preliminary results indicate that the transmission was a success." Xanatos said.  
  
"Yes, sir. Everything arrived intact, no problems! We're just going to have the test boxes and their contents analyzed. But, it looks like it worked."  
  
Xanatos allowed himself to grin slightly. "Excellent."  
  
A blaring alarm went off. Xanatos whirled around to face the scientists seated at the controls. "Report!"  
  
"Uh," stammered the scientists as his fingers were a blur of motion over the keyboard. "The system hasn't shut off, we've got incoming!"  
  
"What?" Exclaimed Xanatos. He pushed the scientist to the side and studied the computer display. Sure enough, it showed every indication that there was something inbound. The lights of the room flickered and several sparks showered down inside the chamber itself. "Get on those power disruptions right now!"  
  
One of the other scientists spoke up, "It's not the power generator, and everything is in the green! It's got something to do with the incoming quantum gateway."  
  
"What did you say?" Xanatos growled dangerously. "I thought the test was over and that it had been a successful transfer."  
  
"From the data, the test was a success, but somehow, the system is acting on it's own. We have something incoming," The scientist said, his voice filled with fright. "See this?" He pointed at the screen. "It's a quantum stream. Somehow, we've intercepted another matter transfer."  
  
Xanatos stood over the consol, reading the data streaming across the screen. "We've only just developed, and perfected the technology that would allow matter transmission over the quantum streams., so how is it possible we've intercepted a second transmission?"  
  
"I don't know sir!" Cried the scientist, getting bolder by the moment. "Only way we can find out is by analyzing the data from the disks after the jump is complete!"  
  
As he spoke, several of the large overhead fluorescent lights blew out as another power surge swept through the Laboratory. A bolt of lightning arced from the hexagonal chamber and sizzled through the air, smashing one of the huge panes of glass that separated the laboratory from the night sky.   
  
Slamming his fist down on a Large Red button, David Xanatos swore loudly. "Aborting now!"  
  
But the emergency cut off had no effect.  
  
"Sir, the transfer is still in progress, the gateways failsafe will not allow the transfer to be interrupted!"  
  
"Get security up here, now!" Xanatos ordered. The lights in the test laboratory flickered out for a millisecond, and then the chamber was bathed in the blood red light from as the emergency lights kicked in.  
  
"Transfer is complete!" The scientist yelled, his eyes glued to the computer display.   
Apprehensively, Xanatos walked over to the chamber and peered inside. The chamber was still filled with the mist, the residual effect of the Matter transmission, but he could make out a humanoid form half laying, half sitting on the floor of the chamber.  
  
  
***  
  
As Kanthara glided silently around the pinnacle of the huge tower, she noticed that the lights continued to flicker here and there. It was strange, most of the time there would be guards, or at least the Steel Clan patrolling the castle. But tonight, not a soul, not a single piece of hardware could be seen.   
  
Folding her wings back, she dove from a height of several hundred feet above the building, only occasionally flicking one here and there to adjust her angel of descent, or to bleed off some of the speed she was rapidly building up. Normally quiet and taciturn, she let out a loud whoop of pleasure. Flying, well gliding actually, was something that she truly enjoyed about being a Gargoyle.   
  
She let the air currents guide her as she glided gracefully, circling the building. She knew that something strange was occurring, but had no idea what it was, why she had such a strange feeling, like an itch in the back of her mind. "What is going on?" She said, but her words were torn away by the rushing air.  
  
Suddenly she felt her hair stand on end and she instinctively curled up into a ball and let herself free fall. And not a moment too soon. A bolt of lightning shattered a huge pane of glass. The thick glass shards rained down from the ruined pane as the lighting dissipated into the Manhattan night sky. Sensing the danger, Kanthara spread her wings and let the currents pull her to safety, away from the jagged hail that was descending to the streets below.   
  
"I knew it!" Kanthara said to herself. Gracefully, she glided away from the deadly shower and caught another current that would take her back up. The shattered window was nearly three hundred feet above her, but she flew to it in no time. The light inside the room went from the bright, glaring florescent to the red of emergency lighting.   
  
Kanthara spread her wings wide and managed to come to come to a near complete stop in the air, only a few yards from the gaping hole. She lashed out with her powerful talons and dug them in deep into the concrete side of the building, and hung there for a moment. She listened to the sound of sirens wailing inside the room, and could hear people shouting, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Hand over hand, she dug her talons into the concrete and pulled herself up to the hole. Peering over the edge, she could see David Xanatos standing next to a strange six-sided chamber, which was situated almost exactly in the center of the room. Large cables were attached to the chamber and there was a computer consol seated a few feet behind and to the right of it.  
  
Several men dressed in white laboratory coats were milling about the computer consol, gesturing and talking loudly to one another, but she was too far away to clearly make out anything that they were saying, but it was clear that something had indeed, gone very wrong. From the rear of the chamber she saw several men dressed in body armor, all carrying weapons.  
  
She clung to the side of the tower, her breath held in anticipation of what was going to happen next.   
  
  
***  
  
Consciousness slowly crept back into Brett. He felt worse than he had ever felt before, even worse than those two incidents where he had been flung through time. He sat perfectly still, knowing that in a few minutes time he would feel better. He was a little disappointed that Gitana hadn't entered the chamber and helped him to his feet by now. It was a habit that she had gotten into ever since they had set up their home in the South East Asian islands.   
  
Every fiber in his body burned like fire. He tried to lift his hand to wipe the sheen of sweat that clung to his face, but found the effort almost too much. "Fireblast," he whispered, barely able to hear himself.  
  
The door to the gateway opened and a blaring siren wracked his ears. Maverick slumped forward and tried to cover his aching ears with his hands. Through the noise, he heard footsteps. He knew right then and there he wasn't where he was supposed to be.   
  
"Whoever you are, stand up very slowly and keep your hands where we can see them," the deep male voice demanded. "And someone shut off the damned alarm!"  
  
"Can't," he croaked, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. "Jump sick."  
  
Someone roughly grabbed him by each arm and pulled him to his feet. He didn't have the strength to resist, and nearly fell forward. A hand reached down and pulled his IMI Desert Eagle from its holster and he felt someone pulling his combat blade from its sheath. With ruthless efficiency, the men pulled off all his weapons and ammunition. He didn't fight them, realizing that in his condition; they would probably chill him on the spot.   
  
The men who had him dragged him out of the gateway and he was forced to stand upright between them. He opened his eyes a crack, wincing as the red light shot white-hot pokers of pain through his skull. But he felt his strength returning by the minute. He was inside a huge chamber, which was bathed in red. He saw a well-dressed man standing before him. The man had the look of a Baron about him, but seemed to lack the madness that was predominant among the barons back home.   
  
The man stroked his goatee and stepped up close to take a look at the newcomer. "Who are you?" He asked.   
  
"Maverick, Brett Maverick," he said weakly.   
  
Brett heard one of the men holding him snort in amusement. "Yeah, and I'm Anne Oakley."   
  
The baron before him glowered at the sec man and he stopped chuckling instantly. He turned to face Brett once again. "So, tell me, Mr. Maverick. How did you manage to appear in our experimental matter transmitter?"  
  
Oh, Christ, not again, Brett moaned in his mind. "Donno," he whispered. "Was going home, and next thing I know, you've got me." Keep him talking, Brett, keep him talking, the scarred warrior told himself. He was regaining his strength by the second and would be able to make a break for it. But as long as he acted weak, the sec men holding him would keep their guard down.   
  
He stared around the chamber, his eyes coming to rest for the briefest second on a table, which held his weapons, hat, and the box of toys that he had taken for his daughter. Somehow, he needed to get to it.   
  
"Oh? And where is this 'home' that you're referring to?" The baron asked.  
  
Brett snorted. "You think I'd tell you? What, do you think that I'm triple stupe or something?" He purposely kept his voice weak, as not to arouse suspicion.  
  
Xanatos laughed, surprising him. "No, I suppose Mr. Maverick, that you wouldn't. Although we can find out easily enough." He backed away and unclasped his hands from behind his back. "My name is David Xanatos, and for the time being, you are going to be my guest."  
  
Slowly, Maverick lifted his scarred face and stared at the man. "Yeah, till you torture and chill me. "  
  
If anything, Xanato's smile widened. "On the contrary, my scarred friend. You are going to be treated quite well while you are a guest in my home. The fact that you arrived the way you have means you can help us out more than a dozen years of research ever could.   
  
Maverick stared at the well-dressed man. "Well, Baron Xanatos, I guess I don't have any choice now do I?" As he spoke, he took in the surroundings. He spotted at least two more guards standing near the Baron. Both were dressed in body armor, bulletproof vests, arm and leg protection, as well as helmets. They were carrying blasters unlike anything he had ever encountered before. He could see a large gaping hole in a window, off to the left of where he was standing. That would be his ticket out of the baron's fortress.   
  
"Gentlemen, escort Mr. Maverick down to the detention cells, and be gentle, he looks like death warmed over," Xanatos told the two sec men holding him upright.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Kanthara watched as the door to the small six-sided chamber was opened and two men entered. She saw Xanatos say something, and made a slicing gesture across his throat. The blaring siren was silenced.   
  
The two guards left the chamber, dragging a thickly muscled man between them. The man was dressed in worn, but clean camouflage pants and a jacket, as well as a white tank top and military class boots. He looked as if he had been heavily armed as one of the sec men handed several handguns, at least two large blades and what appeared to be grenades to another man who carefully carted them away.   
  
Something about the man set off alarms in her mind. During her years on the streets of Manhattan she had developed a finely honed ability to detect predators and dangerous people. The man held between the two guards had the look of a pure predator about him. He had numerous scars running across his face and his torso, from what she could see. The man was clearly a warrior and a dangerous one at that. He opened his eyes and stared at Xanatos. His eyes were slate gray and held the same predatory look to them, but it was also softened by something else.   
  
She listened in on the conversation between the prisoner and Xanatos. "Brett Maverick?" She said quietly to herself. "What does he think he is, a cowboy? Mel Gibson, he isn't, that's for sure." But she had to admit, that under the scars and the deadly aura that surrounded him, he was a good-looking man.   
  
Kanthara was about to let go of the side of the structure. She had planned on going back to the clan to report to Goliath what had just occurred when suddenly the man sprang to life. As the two guards led him away, half walking, half dragging, the scarred warrior stood up straight and tore his arms free from the grasps of the two men.   
  
Rarely had Kanthara ever witnessed a normal human move as fast as the newcomer was. While the two guards had been stunned into shock by the sudden and unexpected movement of the warrior, he grabbed the handgun out of the holster from the guard on the left, triggering the weapon before it had even cleared the leather. He seemed to be as surprised by the results as his target. A bolt of red energy seared out of the barrel and caught the second guard in the thigh, blowing through the armor and searing off a fist sized chunk of flesh.   
  
After triggering the weapon, the scarred warrior let go of the hand gun and drove his fist into the stunned guards throat, normally, the blow from the survivalist would have easily have killed the man, but he was still feeling weakened and his timing was off. Instead of killing the guard outright, the man collapsed to his knees, his face turning several shades of purple as he fought for his breath.   
  
He slipped his hand into the belt at the small of his back and cursed. The sec men had been far more thorough than he had been expecting. Usually he kept a small holdout blaster secreted away for situations just as the one he found himself in. He crouched low, still feeling slightly disoriented from the jump, but he was almost fully recovered.   
  
Xanatos reacted in surprise at the sudden attack performed by the newcomer. He backed away as one of the un-injured guards moved in front of him and raised his rifle.  
  
Sensing the danger, Maverick spun on his heel and spotted the guard just as he raised the weapon. The second guard was fumbling with his rifle, trying to bring it to bear. . Maverick spotted a nametag attached the left pectoral plate. It read Parsons. Clearly Parsons wasn't used to seeing actual combat.   
  
As the first armored guard fired, Maverick sprang from his crouching position. He tucked and rolled, landing behind the computer consol where the scientists were cowering in fright. The shot missed him by scant inches. The red hellfire hit a monitor that was resting on a table on the other side of the chamber. The monitor exploded spectacularly showering razor sharp shards of glass over a ten-foot radius.   
  
"You, Parsons" snapped Xanatos, pointing at the man who had only then brought up his rifle. "He's unarmed, go around the side and flush him out, but make sure you only wound him, don't kill him."  
  
"Yes sir!" Nervously, the guard carefully moved out and towards the side of the large consol. The other guard quickly followed suit, moving away from Xanatos to come around the other side, his intent clearly to entrap the newcomer.   
  
Maverick never gave the guards a chance. The scarred warrior leapt over the consol, landing next to the chair the technician was using. Parsons, who had been attempting to flank him fired, but narrowly missed. Maverick Lashed out with his foot and hit the chair. It flew out towards the guard who was adjusting his aim to shoot a second time. The guard triggered the weapon, but the bolt only caught the top of the piece of furniture. A distraction was what the scarred warrior needed, and he got it.   
  
He sprang to his feet and desperately searched for a way out of the room. The door was clearly blocked, as huge metal bars had slid out of the jams and crossed it, making escape all but impossible unless he could get the security codes. There simply wouldn't be enough time for such an action.   
  
The first guard fired his weapon just as Maverick ducked. It would have torn a huge chunk of his shoulder off, but instead it merely singed his hair and slightly burned his ear. As he ducked, his hand lashed out and he grabbed a clipboard from the consol and in one smooth motion, sent it hurtling towards the firer. Maverick was able to catch the tag adorning the sec man's armor. His name was Collins.  
  
The flat piece of wood shot out straight and true. The board connected with the barrel of the energy rifle and it flew out of Collins hands. The guard growled angrily, his initial fear and surprise finally having worn off. He let the weapon skid away and he closed in on the scarred survivalist.   
  
Never one to back down from a fight, especially when cornered, Maverick came out of his duck and met the rush head on. Collins attempted to grapple the scarred warrior, but Maverick slid under his outstretched hands and grabbed the wrist of the right arm, twisting it savagely as he slid past. The armor prevented him from breaking the guard's wrist out-right but the man bellowed in pain.   
  
With Collin's arm firmly locked behind him, Maverick's foot shot out and connected with the man's knee. The leg buckled and the guard crumpled to his knees. Collins swatted at Maverick with his free hand, but the scarred survivalist avoided it easily. As he had with the guards who were taking him away, he tore the blaster from Collins holster and pointed it at Parsons', who was advancing towards the two combatants.   
  
"Drop the blaster or I chill the sec man," Maverick growled and dug the barrel of the weapon into the back of the man's neck.  
  
Parsons hesitated and looked back at Xanatos who was standing still, his arms folded across his broad chest. Clearly he was interested in the final outcome of the situation. "Do as he says."  
  
The guard let the rifle drop on the sling and he placed it on the ground, and then raised his hands in the air.  
  
"Do I look like some sort of Outlander stupe?" Maverick snapped. "Drop the sidearm as well, or you're friend will be riding the last train to the coast.   
  
Parsons looked as if he was ready to chew nails, but carefully slid the weapon from its holster and placed it on the floor next to the rifle.   
  
"Back off from it," Ordered Maverick.  
  
Again the man complied.  
  
"You've got no place to go, Brett." Xanatos said in a casual voice. "The doors are bolted, and there is no way out of this building. Just put the weapon down and you've got my word that you will not be harmed."  
  
"If I had a blaster for every two bit, inbred, deranged Baron that told me that, I'd be the ruler of the Deathlands."  
  
Xanatos raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Deathlands?"  
  
Maverick ignored him. Instead, he pulled Collins along with him as he approached the table that held his belongings.   
  
No one in the chamber moved to stop him, but every eye was on him like a laser, following his every move. At the table, he let the guard go but kept the gun to the man, lowering it so that it was jabbing him in the small of his back. Reaching out from memory, Maverick blindly grabbed at the table. He took his battered cap and nestled it on his head, then grabbed his Desert Eagle and slid it back into his holster. The seconds ticked by and he had managed to retrieve most of his weapons, but he had to leave the box.   
  
There was no way that he had intended to head back home without at least something for his daughter. Lastly, he reached into the box and pulled out the stuffed animal that he had taken for her and hooked the small toy in his belt.  
  
"Move out, Collins, and don't try anything funny," Maverick prodded the guard slightly with the barrel of the energy weapon.   
  
Gritting his teeth angrily, Collins complied.   
  
  
***  
  
Kanthara watched the whole fight, her mouth open in amazement as her white hair whipped around her face and shoulders. The newcomer was something to behold, and his skills as a warrior were not to be taken lightly. She frowned as he began to approach the window. It wouldn't go over well at all if Xanatos or any of the guards spotted her. So, she pulled her head out from the window and clamored along the side of the building till she was literally hanging upside down, hidden from casual view.   
  
  
***  
He knew he was trapped. The closer he got to the damaged window, the clearer it was that to try and escape through it would be suicide. They had to be hundreds, if not thousands of feet in the air, and he could see a huge, sprawling metropolis laid out before him. He'd only see things like that in pictures in magazines that he found during his travels.   
  
He pulled the gun out from Collins back, not realizing what he had done.   
  
But it was enough.   
  
Humiliated, and in pain, Collins tore his wrist free from the survivalists grasp. In the split second that it took Maverick to tear his gaze away from the urban sprawl, the guard had whirled around and drove his fist like a pile driver into Maverick's jaw. The impact from the blow sent stars shooting before the scarred warriors vision and he raised his hands to defend himself out of instinct. Collins swatted the energy weapon out of Maverick's hands, and it sailed out of the window to disappear into the night.   
  
Staggering backwards, Maverick raised his fists in defense.   
  
Collins didn't relent. He smashed his fist into Maverick's stomach, in an attempt to wind him. But Maverick had been able to turn his torso slightly so most of the punches energy was deflected as it slid across his stomach and off to the side.  
  
Parsons never wasted a second. The odds of him hitting his co-worker were too great to risk using his weapon, so he ran across the chamber to join the melee.  
  
Maverick quickly recovered from the blow to the jaw and retaliated. He stepped in close to his opponent and grabbed him by the chest plate of his armor. There was very little he could do, so he smashed his forehead down on the other man's nose mashing it flat. Blood spurted everywhere as the guard howled.   
  
Looking over the shoulder of the wounded guard, Maverick saw Parsons was almost on top of him. He shoved Collins with all his might. The man toppled backwards, spraying crimson everywhere.   
  
Parsons narrowly ducked past the injured guard and rammed his shoulder solidly into Maverick's torso. The momentum, combined with the blow, knocked Maverick backwards. His foot hit a spot of blood on the smooth floor and he lost total control.   
  
Arms flailing, he toppled out of the shattered window.   
  
  
***  
A scream of pain reached Kanthara's ears. From her vantage point, she could hear the grunts and muffled thuds of physical combat. Then, a form fell out of the window, his arms flailing as he desperately tried to grab onto something.  
  
She spread her wings and pushed out with her powerful legs. Like an arrow launched from a compound bow, she shot straight and true. The heavily muscled human had barely fallen a hundred feet when she latched onto his wrist and pulled out of the dive. "Hang on, I got you!"  
Maverick reached out and grabbed onto her wrist with his other hand. "Fuck!" he yelled as the wind tore the cap from his head. The sudden appearance of the winged creature startled him, but the choices were grab onto her, or die. He took the former.  
  
Kanthara's brown eyes locked on those of the scarred warrior. She could see the fear and panic welling up inside him. "It's alright, I won't let you fall, I promise." She then twisted her body in mid air so she could line up parallel to him. She held onto his wrist as she slid her other arm under his legs and pulled him up into a cradling position, although it proved to be more than a little awkward as the man was taller than she was.  
  
Lower and lower they swooped, until she had finally bled off enough airspeed to allow her to land gently on a rooftop, far below the monolithic tower.   
  
As soon as her feet touched the tarred surface, she released the man. He brushed himself off and rubbed his jaw, then spit a gob of blood-flecked saliva to the rooftop. "Nothing busted," he muttered. His voice still held a note of fear in it.   
  
Kanthara started to reach out to touch his face, but stopped. She had no idea how he would react, so she stepped away from him. Most humans reacted in fright to the sight of a gargoyle. She did, the first time she ever saw one. "You're welcome." She said flatly.  
  
"Huh?" Maverick said stupidly. "Oh, right. Thanks. Triple good thing you were there when you were. I'd be chilled, no if ands or buts about it." He made no move towards her, only stared at her. He held his back straight, and his hand rested on the butt of the big gun holstered at his hip. He kept his face neutral, but she could see the confusion, the anger and most of all, the fear in his eyes as he studied her.  
  
"What?" She found herself asking as she subconsciously crossed her arms under her breasts, a universal defensive measure.  
  
"Nothin, just you look a hell of a lot like my adoptive daughter, that's all. Same sort of mutant."  
  
Kanthara bristled at the term. "I'm not some sort of mutant," she said indignantly," I'm a Gargoyle!" Who used to be a human, she added silently.  
  
At her angered reaction, he almost drew his weapon, but instead waved one hand down at her, "Ok, ok, sorry." He looked about the rooftop, and at the city lights glowing all around. "Where the hell am I?"  
  
"Manhattan, New York." She answered. "I'm Kanthara, Brett."  
  
His head spun as he faced her. "How'd you know my name?"   
  
The yellow gargoyle pretended to scratch her chin in order to hide the laughter she felt brimming inside at his reaction. "Heard you say it when you were talking to Xanatos."  
  
"You know him?" Maverick said, looking up at the monolithic tower.   
  
"Yes, I do." The laughter died inside of her, and she took a long stride towards the man. "And, I also know that he's going to have someone out here in a matter of minutes."  
  
Several yards away from them stood the access to the roof. Maverick ran over to it and tested the door. It was locked. "Then what the fireblasted hell are we doing standing here jawing for? No way some two bit baron is going to take me alive," he said.   
  
Kanthara noted the fear that was carefully hidden behind the anger of his words. He was about to pull the weapon from its holster, when she held out her hand and said; "Hold it, you'll just attract more attention doing that. Be best if I flew you out of here.  
  
"As if that wouldn't attract a wag load of attention." He looked up and his hand lashed out to grab something that had just reached the two conversationalists. It was his beloved Cerberus cap and he placed it back on his head, where it belonged. "What year is it?"  
  
The question caught the gargoyle off guard, "What?"  
  
"I asked you what year it was. Am I in the past, or in the future? I'd guess it has to be the future. There were no mutants like you in the past. What, about a thousand years or so? Have to be at least that long, to have all this," he waved his arms out, pointing at the sprawling metropolis, "rebuilt and repopulated. I've been to Manhattan, it's ruins."  
  
Her tail swishing, she walked over to the edge of the building. "Come on, we don't have all night. Xanatos and his people will be here any second. We can talk later."  
  
Maverick resigned himself and joined her. He stood on the lip of the building and looked down. Below him, he could see thousands of vehicles, more people than he had ever imagined existed. The sight took his breath away.   
  
Hooking her talons under his armpits and making sure she had a good strong grip on him, Kanthara jumped off the edge of the building and instantly spread her wings. Gracefully, she glided them away from the two towers, heading deeper into the urban sprawl. "It's ninety seven," She told him. "Nineteen ninety seven."  
  
They glided in silence for almost thirty minutes before she arrived at the Hudson River. There, they landed upon the roof of an old warehouse. She let go of the scarred warrior and crouched on the lip of the building, staring out over the river.   
  
Sitting down heavily beside her, Maverick pounded his fist into his open palm. "That is the last fucking time I'm ever going to use the gateways, once I get back to my own time."  
  
Very little surprised the gargoyle as she stepped off the lip and sat down next to the scarred man, leaving two yards separating them. "You're from the future then."  
  
Maverick nodded. "Yeah, about a century into the future."  
  
"Don't make me wait, tell me about it." She said.   
  
He pulled the stuffed animal from his belt and held it out before him, staring at it. Kanthara felt strangely touched by the image.   
  
"You don't want to know, believe me, you don't want to know."   
  
Kanthara bristled. "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't ask, would I?" Standing, she turned her back on him and stood staring out over the river, her tail swinging back and forth, conveying her annoyance. She realized that the man was taking things quite calmly. That intrigued her even more.   
  
"Lets just say, that I hope for your sake, the future can be prevented." He said gently as he stroked the soft fur of the stuffed animal. "This was for my daughter."  
  
Kanthara turned to face him once again. She walked over to stand before him and held out her hand. "Can I see it?" She asked.  
  
Shrugging, Maverick handed her the toy. "She's just over two years old. That was supposed to be one of her birthday presents."  
  
Taking the offered toy, Kanthara stared down at the rather plane looking white teddy bear. There wasn't anything remarkable about it in any way, but already she could feel the love of a father for a daughter attached to the simple object. "Do you have a picture of her?"  
  
The scarred warrior reached into a pocket in his jacket and pulled out a slightly tattered photograph. He took back the stuffed bear and handed it to her. "That's her," he said.   
  
The photograph showed a tiny girl with huge gray eyes and raven black hair. She was dressed in a white dress and had her thumb in her mouth, and she was holding the hand to a woman who wasn't present in the picture.  
  
"She's beautiful, what's her name?" Kanthara said, staring down at the picture in her hand.  
  
"Carmalita, named after her mothers sister."  
  
Almost regretfully, she handed back the picture. "Tell me about your time."  
Maverick replaced the image where he had taken it. "Tell you what, you tell me your story, I'll tell you mine. Sorta swap things here," the scarred warrior stared into her eyes. "Fair enough?"  
  
The yellow gargoyle nodded vigorously. "Deal. You start."  
  
For approximately an hour, the scarred warrior told her about the future, how that in a few short years a global nuclear war would transform the world permanently, changing the United States into a true Deathlands of depravity and horror. He explained to her about the thirty year long nuclear winter, the genetic mutations that sprang up almost over night, many from hidden facilities that created them to thrive in the blasted landscape.   
  
Maverick told her about the time he spent traveling with the Trader on his convoy of wags, and how that he had become separated from them. How he discovered the mutant girl Gedoena, which shared an uncanny resemblance to Kanthara, and how she had become his adoptive daughter.  
  
Kanthara listed, enthralled by the man's story.   
  
"... and then I woke up in that mat trans up there," He pointed at the still visible tower on the Manhattan skyline. "I gotta figure out a way to get back home now, and I think that doing what Xanatos wants is the only way I can accomplish that."  
  
"Not really a good idea, Brett," The yellow Gargoyle said as she chewed on her lower lip, mulling over what she had learned. "This war, do you think that's going to happen here?"  
  
He shrugged his massive shoulders. "I don't know. At this point, no way for me to be able to give you an honest answer. I witnessed the war, from up in orbit. But... I have no idea. I told you mine, you tell me yours."  
  
Still sitting near the warrior, she leaned her knees together and stuck her hands between them. She slumped her shoulders and sighed. "Nothing as spectacular as yours really. I guess... I grew up on the lower east side, running in the streets from as far back as I could remember."  
  
Maverick nodded, seeing a bit of a kindred spirit in the Gargoyle. "A survivor, like me," he said.  
  
She nodded. "I guess, sort of. Eventually got with a gang and they became my family. But, things went bad, real bad."  
  
"Because of being a mut... I mean, a Gargoyle, right?"  
  
She shook her head, her eyes flashing white with anger. She visibly forced herself to calm down. "I don't know why I'm telling you this..."  
  
"Deals a deal."  
  
"I know," Kanthara growled. "Don't know why... Stupid," she cursed under her breath. "I wasn't always a gargoyle. I was human, at one time. But one of Xanatos' cronies ended up causing me to become this."  
  
Maverick stared at her. His eyes held not judgment, but understanding. "I'm sorry. I've seen similar things happen, Fireblast, I had someone threaten to do something like that to me, once. All bio-engineering."  
  
She stood up and turned around to stare out over the river. Maverick noticed how angry she was, as her talons dug deeply into the ledge without her noticing.   
  
"Ya know, just forget about telling me anything else. Last thing I need is you going berserk on me and we end up killin' each other," he told her.  
  
Slowly, she let go of the ledge and faced him. She ran one hand over her Mohawk and smoothed it out. "It's really a touchy subject with me. Maybe, just maybe, someday, I'll tell you all about it."  
  
He placed one foot on the ledge and rested his arms on his knee. Clearly the height didn't bother him as much as it would anyone else. "Doubt it. I don't intend to stick around. I have my wife, and my baby girl to get back to."  
  
"So, you're going to go back to Xanatos then?"  
  
Maverick mulled it over, chewing his lower lip. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Yeah, I think I might as well go back to talk to him. Although I sort of doubt that he'll be all that happy to see me, after I nearly chilled all four of his guards."  
  
"Could have been worse, you could have killed his men."  
  
He nodded, and looked back over towards the monolithic tower. "That's a hell of a long walk, and through hostile territory."  
  
"Man like you, I doubt you'd have any trouble," she thought about it for a second, "Then again, gang bangers, seeing someone like you in their territory, might object to it. Could find yourself in a fight."  
  
He patted the sidearm strapped to his hip and gave her a wolfish grin. "Their funeral."  
  
Kanthara actually reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "No! You can't do that. Too many cops around and the first time any one of them heard your story, they'd throw you in an insane asylum!"  
  
"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? Let some triple stupe slagging cold heart chill me?"  
  
Maverick caught movement reflected in her eyes, something was behind him. Years of survival had honed his reflexes to lightning quickness. He whirled about, his weapon drawn and ready to deal death. Standing before him was a huge Gargoyle, bluish gray in color and standing a full foot taller. The Gargoyle simply stared down at him with his arms crossed under his massive chest.  
  
"Whoa!"  
  
"Don't shoot!" Kanthara yelled. "He won't hurt you!"  
  
Slowly, Maverick lowered the gun and replaced it. He met the huge Gargoyles gaze, never flinching. "Friend of yours?" He called over his shoulder.   
  
"Yes," the imposing figure rumbled.  
  
"Goliath, he's alright. Another one of those people who just got caught up in Xanatos' experiments." Kanthara explained.  
  
"I see," Goliath rumbled, but he relaxed his stance somewhat.  
  
Before meeting Gitana, Maverick would have been far more prone to shoot first and ask questions later. But the years with his Spanish beauty had mellowed him greatly. He actually stuck out his hand. "Names Brett Maverick."  
  
Still scowling, Goliath took Maverick's hand, engulfing it in his huge talons. "Gambler?" He said, actually breaking into a half smirk.  
  
If Maverick got the joke, he didn't let on. "Survivalist."  
  
Goliath turned away from the scarred warrior and looked down at the smaller female. "It's almost sunrise, Kanthara. I think it would be best if you came home with me. "  
  
Kanthara nodded reluctantly. For some reason, she didn't really want to leave the survivalist alone. There was an attraction, but she was sure it was simply because of the similarities they had, being survivors, although from two very different sets of circumstances. "Look there is a diner a few blocks from here, why don't you go there and get something to eat? Come back here tomorrow and we can talk some more. Figure out what to do with you." She slapped her forehead. "You don't have any cash!"  
  
Maverick nodded. "I got a ton of jack, but no actual cash. I'm all right; I've gone days without eating. A few hours won't hurt."  
  
Kanthara dug into the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a couple of bills, then handed them to him." Here, that's plenty. Go and get something to eat, and there are a couple of cheap motels a few blocks past the eatery. Get some sleep. I'll meet you here after sunset."  
  
He took the offered bills and stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket. "Fair enough."  
  
With that, the yellow gargoyle jumped off the ledge and sailed off into the night sky.   
  
The huge Gargoyle named Goliath waited a moment before grinning at the scarred warrior. "Welcome to Manhattan, Maverick." He said, and then jumped.  
  
Brett stood there for long minutes, watching the figures until he couldn't see them anymore. He looked down at the ground, several stories below and scratched his head. "How the hell am I supposed to get down?"  
  
  
***  
"Owen, get maintenance up here right away. This gaping hole is rather unsightly." David Xanatos said as he stood at the lip of the hole, staring out over the city. A reddish glow was beginning to creep over the eastern horizon.   
  
Behind him stood a man dressed in a sharp suit. He was lean and rather hawk faced, with blond hair and a serious expression. "I took the liberty of requesting them several minutes before. The window will be replaced by lunch."  
  
"And the city, the police?" Xanatos asked.  
  
"Everything has been cleared up."  
  
He turned. "Good."  
  
"You don't seem to be all that upset about tonight's turn of events, Mr. Xanatos."  
Xanatos nodded. "I'm not. Quite the contrary. Mr. Maverick's sudden, unexpected arrival has given our researchers a wealth of new data. We had speculated that the matter transmitters could be used for breaching the Dimensional barriers, but no hard, physical data. Now we have that."  
  
Owen nodded.   
  
"But there is something that puzzles me," Xanatos said. He paced back and forward, wagging a finger in the air. "He mentioned that he could be the ruler of the Deathlands."  
  
"That title has some sort of significant meaning Mr. Xanatos?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, it does indeed. Years ago, I came across a series of books. Adventure novels. They had some interesting concepts, but grew repetitive after a time and I found my interest waning. They were called, interestingly enough, Deathlands." Xanatos stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I gave them up because they seemed to attract the less intelligent readers, people who tended to be socially maladjusted."  
  
"You think that this person might be delusional, and imagining himself as one of the characters from these novels?" Owen asked.  
  
"No, I think he might actually be from the Deathlands."  
  
Owen raised an eyebrow slightly. "Go on."  
  
"There is a theory that what we call an imagination, really isn't an imagination at all. This theory explains that we're not imagining things, but actually receiving impressions, thoughts, and actual memories from alternate planes of existence. And from these thoughts, when you share them with others, they too, start to share the same thoughts. Nothing we imagine is actually original. What is imagined does exist, on an alternate reality."  
  
"So, you think that these novels were someone's glimpse into this alternate reality?" Owen asked.   
  
"Yes, it's quite possible. And lets face it, with all that we've seen and witnessed over the years, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surprise me any more."  
  
"Shall I send a team to retrieve the subject?"  
  
Xanatos shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We've got the only way for him to return to his own reality. He'll come to us, eventually."  
  
Owen closed his eyes and bowed his head. "As you wish."  
  
Returning to stand at the lip of the window, Xanatos stared out at the rising sun. "Welcome to Manhattan, Mr. Maverick."  
  
End 


	2. Chapter 2

Questions  
By Chris Van Deelen  
  
"Mind explaining what happened last night?" Goliath rumbled deeply. The massive Gargoyle's arms were crossed under his broad chest as he stared down at the smaller yellow Gargoyle.  
The sun had just set over Manhattan and the last rays turned the lacy clouds a dark maroon. The members of the Manhattan clan had just awoken from their daily stone slumber upon the top of Castle Wyvern. The ancient Scottish castle had been transported stone by stone from its original foundation to rest upon the top of the monolithic skyscraper owned by David Xanatos.   
Kanthara turned away from the leader of the clan and stared out over the rapidly darkening skyline. "I thought I made it clear when we got back."  
Brooklyn, Lexington, Broadway and Angela were all standing off to the side, pretending not to listen in on the conversation between Goliath and the newest member of their clan, Kanthara.   
Goliath was steadfast. "Yes, you said that you had witnessed the explosion that took out the window to Xanatos' laboratory. But what made you fly that human away from the castle? Why didn't you simply return him to the laboratory and be done with him?"  
"Would you have?" She snarled. "Normally when someone is fighting Xanatos, there's a damned good reason.   
"I might."  
Her tail swished angrily as she faced the larger Gargoyle. "Yeah, right. As if you haven't stuck your nose in where it doesn't belong more than once."  
"My past actions," bristled the large Gargoyle, "are not being questioned here."  
"Goliath, you know exactly how I feel towards Xanatos. After all, he's indirectly responsible for me being what I am now. So, if I caused him a little set back, why should it bother you?"  
The larger Gargoyle closed his eyes and shook his head. "Because, we're back at our ancestral home. We have to be very careful right now. Nothing can jeopardize our home. Nothing. I don't trust Xanatos as far as I can throw him. But, that doesn't matter right now. The human you left on the rooftop, he is dangerous."  
She almost blurted out that he was one of the most dangerous men she had ever met. She could feel it in her bones, could see it in his slate gray eyes. "Well I believe him. And I'm a damned good judge of character. You don't survive on the streets for long if your not a good judge of character. Something about him, I don't know..." She trailed off.  
Goliath nodded, conceding the point.   
"Up until this point, you've never done anything to harm the clan or bring shame upon us. But that man is clearly important to Xanatos. He said so himself when he talked to us just after you took the newcomer off into the night. As I already said, I don't want you to do anything that would jeopardize our position."  
"Then why didn't you just bring him back with us then?" She retorted. She placed her hands on her hips and her eyes glowed faintly, showing the anger the woman was feeling at the moment. She never liked people questioning her actions, and she still bristled at the fact that she had to take orders, instead of giving them.   
"Because it was getting too close to sunrise."  
Kanthara's brown orbs shone with surprise. "That's it? Come on, that doesn't sound like you. After all you've been through with Xanatos. You'd never have been this way before. If anything, you would have been the first to spirit him away. Anything to keep Xanatos from continuing with his experiments."  
"Yes, but things have changed. Xanatos has changed."  
Kanthara threw her hands up in resignation. Her large wings fluttered with agitation.  
"You got yourself into this, Kanthara. You can get yourself out of it. This is now between you, Maverick and Xanatos."  
"Fine!"   
She made to turn when Goliath stopped her, placing his hand on her shoulder.  
"For what it's worth, I can sense the man has a warriors spirit. And he strikes me as one to honor his word. When he said he was going to come back to the castle and speak to Xanatos, I believed him. And, I trust your judgment."  
"Then why the interrogation?"  
The large Gargoyle glanced over his shoulder at the others who had suddenly found the moon to be quite fascinating. "Because, I'm concerned. I can see that Brooklyn has taken quite the liking to you, and I sense that the feelings may be mutual."  
Kanthara felt her face heat up. Gargoyles didn't blush the way a human did, at least they didn't show. She looked over as Lexington poked Brooklyn in the ribs, his small face lit up with amusement. Broadway had one hand over his mouth and had turned away, doing his best to stifle the laughter, but his shoulders shook as he snickered silently. Brooklyn glared at Broadway tried to swat Lexington on the back of his baldhead. The smaller Gargoyle deftly dodged the larger Gargoyles strike and stuck out his tongue at him. Angela, although smiling, kept her eyes on the moon far overhead.   
The yellow Gargoyle shook her head as she placed one hand over her eyes. "I don't believe this..." she groaned. "Would you keep it down? They'll be bugging us for ages now.   
Goliath nodded. "As you wish," his tone had lessened considerably.   
Kanthara nodded her thanks and continued; I'm a grown woman. I don't need you to be telling me who I should be seeing and who I shouldn't be."  
"I'm not telling you anything. Just be careful. The last thing we need is any more tension among the clan."  
"I'll handle it. You worry about your own problems, I'll deal with mine." She shrugged her shoulder out of his hand and without a word, jumped off the building. As soon as her feet had left the stone, she spread her wings and caught a powerful updraft, which whisked her off into the night.  
  
***  
  
She had been gliding for several minutes when she sensed a presence behind her. Casting a look over her shoulder, she could make out the silhouette of a single Gargoyle, pacing her. Kanthara bent her torso forward as to reduce her speed slightly, and began to circle lazily. Patiently, she waited for the Gargoyle to catch up with her  
"Are you alright?" Angela asked. She was a beautiful young Gargoyle from the mystical island of Avalon. The daughter of Demona and Goliath, she shared the strength and beauty of both. The bluish gray Gargoyle fell into the same gentle circle as her friend.   
"I'm fine, Angela." She felt like asking if the younger Gargoyle had been sent by her father to check up on her, but thought better of it. Goliath wouldn't do something like that. "Why do you ask?"  
Angela shrugged her shoulders. "You haven't been that mad in quite some time, that's why."  
Far below, Kanthara watched the cars, trucks, buses and other automobiles travel along the city streets. She often marveled how it resembled blood traveling down a vein in the body. She didn't answer the other Gargoyle.   
"So, what's he like?" Angela prompted.  
"The man is a pure predator. The way he held himself, walked, talked, he's a man who's used to fighting. And killing."  
"He's a warrior like us?"  
Kanthara shook her head. She noticed they were closing on the Chrysler building and changed the course of her flight. Lightly the two women landed on one of the large stone Gargoyles that adorned the corners of the building. They were not near the top, but were not afraid of anyone actually seeing them. Kanthara disliked trying to hold a conversation while flying. Half the time the words were carried off by the wind. She crouched and rested her arms on her knees. "No, not like us. A different breed of warrior. I'm willing to bet that he's taken more lives than the entire clan put together.   
"Oh." Angela sounded disheartened. The gargoyles were warriors, it was true but rarely had they actually been forced to take a life. Killing was something the other woman didn't enjoy.   
Deep down, Kanthara secretly hoped that her friend would never be forced into that position. Kanthara had been forced to kill, and it still haunted her to the very day.  
"What does he look like?"  
Kanthara sighed. "He's big. Not as tall as Goliath, but he's powerfully built. The guy is a walking muscle. Also, I've never seen a man with so much scarring."  
"Was he in a fire or something?" Angela asked. She crouched next to Kanthara, relishing the cool night breeze.   
"No, I'm talking battle scars. His face and arms are covered with them. I'd guess so is the rest of his body. Frankly, I'm amazed that he's alive. A person to have taken that much abuse..."  
Angela nodded.   
Kanthara stole a peek at the other woman. She could read clearly that Angela wanted to meet him. Curiosity of a younger woman, no doubt, Kanthara thought to herself. She also figured that it might have something to do with the man's story. She had related what she learned to the clan before the morning hibernation took them all. Even to her, it was almost too much to comprehend.  
"You like him?" Angela asked, out of the blue.  
The question caught Kanthara off guard. She stammered, then bit her lower lip to control herself. "In a way, I do. Even though he's a killer, I saw something in his eyes. There is compassion there. I can feel that he's a good man. And there is also the fact that he's married and he has a child."  
"He told you?"  
Kanthara nodded. "He also showed me a picture of his daughter. She's got her fathers eyes. The girl is beautiful." Her mind began to wander down the dark corridors of memory, trying to dredge up faint images of her own parents. The yellow Gargoyle viscously shook her head, ridding her mind of the thoughts.  
"What else?"  
"He had with him, of all things, a small Teddy bear. He told me it was a gift for his little Carmalita."  
"Can I go with you to meet him?" Angela asked eagerly.   
"Why?  
"Because, you've got my curiosity now. And after that story you told us, I have to see him for myself."  
Kanthara shook her head. "I don't know. Don't you think that Broadway might object?"  
"Oh, he might get annoyed, but I know of ways to get around him." Angela smiled. "And besides, if I was you, I would be more concerned about how Brooklyn would react."  
"I'm a big girl, I can handle him." Kanthara said.   
"Yes, but can your friend handle him?"  
Kanthara nodded. Good question.   
  
***  
  
Maverick sat huddled in the corner of the rooftop where he had been deposited the night before. Around him were scattered several empty Styrofoam containers, and empty bottles of Dr. Pepper. He had several magazines and a paperback neatly piled near by, and a bag of chips rested in his lap as he thumbed his way through a current issue of 'Time'.  
He felt something prickling on the back of his neck and he craned it around to peer out into the night sky. Someone was watching him he could feel it. Sure enough, he saw the silhouettes of two figures outlined against the dark sky, brought into view by the bright moonlight. Instinctively, his hand reached towards the large blaster that was hidden under his jacket, but he relaxed.   
Kanthara touched down a few yards away, followed closely by Angela. Maverick stood up and walked over to the two Gargoyles, crossing his arm under his chest. "Was wondering if you were gonna come back or not."  
"Hello to you as well," Kanthara replied sarcastically. "I'm just fine, had a wonderful sleep. I'm glad you asked."  
The scarred warrior mumbled something under his breath and shook his head. "Ok, it's good to see you. Where's the big guy?"  
"Goliath?"  
Maverick nodded.  
"He's decided to stay out of this. Said it's between you, myself and Xanatos." Kanthara told him.   
"Alright, if it's between us, who's the kid?" Maverick pointed at Angela.   
The younger Gargoyle looked down at her feet and stepped ever so slightly to the side, so that Kanthara was between her and the man.  
"She's my friend, her names Angela. And she isn't a kid."  
Maverick walked over to the two Gargoyles and stood off to the side so he could look at Angela. "Fitting name," he said after a moment.   
The young woman actually turned away and crossed her arms under her small breasts. Her whole body radiated embarrassment.   
Kanthara sighed and walked away from her, taking the warriors arm in her hand and pulled him with her. "You're embarrassing her, you know."  
"I am? Hey, I'm just saying it as I see it. I don't pull my punches," he said defensively. "I've been around enough mutants and bio-engineered beings during my years in the Deathlands to be able to appreciate true beauty."  
Kanthara felt herself hoping that he would say the same about her.  
"Just lay off, ok? She's not used to that sort of attention."  
He shrugged. "Sure." He looked back at the young Gargoyle and walked up to her. "Hey, name's Brett Maverick," he said with a smile as he held out his hand to the Gargoyle.   
Angela looked down at the offered hand and then took it, almost hesitantly. She smiled back at him. "Angela. Are you a cowboy where you come from?" the young Gargoyle asked.   
Maverick was surprised at the strength of her grip, but he kept his face neutral. "Well I was raised on a ranch, but nope, not a cowboy." Why do people keep asking me that? He thought to himself.   
He noticed the woman staring at his face and subconsciously he reached up and ran his fingers over the triple scar on his right cheek that was bisected by another long scar. "I know, fireblasted ain't pretty, isn't it?"  
Angela shook her head and looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I didn't mean it that way. So you are a warrior after all."  
"Nah, I'm more what you'd call a survivalist. I do what I need to get by, and what I need to survive."  
"I see you ate rather well," Kanthara interrupted as she crouched and picked up one of the Styrofoam containers. She opened the lid and sniffed the empty container. "Burger and fries, gravy, and potato salad."  
"Yeah, was pretty good. Most of the ville food I've had sucks rad dust. But at least it keeps you alive. Not as good as Gitana's cooking though."  
Kanthara nodded. "So, when do you want to go?"  
"How about right now?" Maverick gave the younger gargoyle a smile said as he joined Kanthara. He picked up all the empty containers and the magazines. He placed the magazines in his jacket pocket and carefully placed the empty containers in a bag.  
"I'll carry you." Kanthara said.  
"I don't know... I would really rather walk." He told her.  
"It would take you hours, maybe the whole night to get there by foot. This way you'll be there in less than thirty minutes."  
Maverick shrugged, conceding the point. "True. But I feel triple weird, being carried and all."  
"Well, I could let you walk, but the way you look, the way you're dressed, every cop in the city will be stopping you to check your ID. You wouldn't get more than a third of the way there before they dragged you down to the nearest police station."  
"Sec men," he growled. "No matter where you go, you can't seem to get away from the bastards."  
"I know exactly how you feel."  
Angela stared at them, smiling slightly to herself. "I'll meet you back at the castle, Kanthara," she called out.  
"See you soon." Kanthara waved.  
"Hey," Maverick called out. "Nice meeting you Angela."  
The girl turned her eyes away from him and bounded off the roof. Within moments she was out of sight.  
"Cute kid. Kinda shy, isn't she?"  
Kanthara frowned. "Normally she isn't like that. I've rarely seen her at such a loss for words."  
He shrugged and stepped onto the ledge. "I've got that effect on people. It's the scars."  
As she did the night before, Kanthara placed her hands under his armpits and pushed off the building. "More to it than that. You've got an aura about you."  
He found he had to yell to hear himself over the sound of the air rushing around them. "Gotta have attitude. You show weakness, you get chilled. Way of the Deathlands."  
Kanthara didn't answer, and he didn't press the issue any more. Her mind was taken back in time to when she was the leader of her own gang. Yes, he was right. Attitude played a huge role in life on the streets. She knew that to show any weakness, it would mean that she would lose respect in the eyes of the other gangs, or worse. Someone would challenge her to the leadership of her gang, and if she lost, she would be lucky to lose her people. More often than not, the loser was killed. She had to fight her way through the ranks to eventually gain the leadership of her former gang. And she had the scars, both physical and emotional to prove it.   
Sudden loneliness and pain filled her to the core. She could see the faces of her old gang, her family, clearly in her mind as if someone held a photograph of them before her. She missed them so much. A sob of despair broke from her lips, but she covered it by clearing her throat. If Maverick noticed it, he didn't let on.  
Kanthara forced her mind off her lost family. She kept her eyes straight ahead and stared at the Xanatos monolith loomed closer and closer as the minutes flew past. When she figured that she could talk without sobbing, she yelled out; "We're almost there. I can't really just drop you off at the front doors. So I can take you around the back."  
"Fine by me. I'm not expecting a warm welcome anyhow." He yelled back.   
She flew between the buildings and glided into the alley behind the huge tower. Below them she could see the rear delivery docks. It would be the perfect place for them to enter the building. Swooping in, she dropped the scarred warrior onto the dock, where he landed feet first. She touched down beside him and waved up at the security camera that was flashing brightly in a dark corner of the dock.  
"Do you want me to go with you?" She blurted out. Kanthara almost slapped her forehead but kept her hand still.   
Maverick Shrugged. "Don't matter. I doubt they're gonna be friendly," As soon as the words left his mouth, the back door opened and several men dressed in combat armor carrying assault rifles filed through. "See?" He said with a smirk, then slowly raised his hands away from his body. "I'm here to see Xanatos."  
Two of the guards ran up to him and frisked him. They pulled off his weapons and he allowed them to cuff his hands behind his back. "Take it easy, sec man. I'm here on my own free will," he growled as the cuffs cut off the circulation in his hands.  
Kanthara made no hostile moves, nor did she attempt to stop them. Roughly, the guards pushed Maverick forward where two more guards waited. The stood on either side of him, each taking an arm and led him into the building. The yellow Gargoyle made a step towards the building when one of the guards held up his hand to stop her. He seemed to be listening to something, as he put his hand down and stood aside, allowing her easy access to the building.  
The guards hustled Maverick through the loading docks into a large freight elevator at the back. Kanthara walked behind them, but kept her eyes on how they were treating the scarred warrior. Maverick almost smiled when he saw her following, but managed to hide it.   
The group rode the freight elevator in silence as it ascended into the upper reaches of the huge tower. Finally, it came to a stop and the doors opened up. They led the scarred warrior and the Gargoyle down a wide corridor, past at least a dozen or more side doors. At the end of the corridor stood a large steel door, much like that found in a bank vault. One of the guards pulled his tag off his uniform and ran it through a reader. The machine blinked for a second then the huge doorway slowly slid open.  
Kanthara had seen the room behind it. It was Xanatos' private chambers. The guards pulled Maverick into the room and she followed. It was huge, absolutely huge. The room took up almost an entire floor of the building. She knew that Xanatos liked his space when he worked. Off to the side stood his desk, a marvel of technology and craftsmanship. Expensive paintings adorned the walls and the floor around the desk was carpeted in the most luxurious rugs she had ever laid her eyes on.   
With the greatest of efficiency, the guards walked Maverick over to the desk. Xanatos was seated behind it, his hands steepled before him as he watched the proceedings. "Welcome back, Mr. Maverick."   
"Thanks." Brett said.  
"Jackson," Xanatos nodded towards the guard on Maverick's left. "Remove the cuffs. You and your men are relieved."  
Jackson appeared as if he was going to protest, but then he pulled the keys out of a small pouch on his belt and removed the cuffs. Maverick rubbed his wrists as the blood flowed back into his hands.   
Xanatos looked at the Gargoyle and nodded. "Hello, Kanthara."  
"Xanatos," the name sounded like a curse when she spoke it.  
"I'm here to cut a deal, Baron."  
"Baron?" Xanatos said, clearly amused. "I'm no baron. I'm just a simple businessman.  
Kanthara snorted, but held her tongue.   
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know about the Mat Trans. Anything I know you'll know. Just return me to my family."  
"I like you," Xanatos smiled. He stood up from behind his desk and walked out in front of it. He leaned up against the desk and put his hands on the edge. "Straight and to the point. Those are very admirable traits, Mr. Maverick."  
Smooth as always, aren't you Xanatos? Kanthara though. Smooth as a snake. She fought the urge to spit on the floor.   
"Call me Maverick, or call me Brett. But don't add the Mr. Shit to it."  
"As long as you don't refer to me as a baron, you've got yourself a deal, Brett."  
Maverick nodded, and crossed his arms under his chest. "So, is that all you want, or do you want something else in return?"  
"I didn't lie to you earlier," Xanatos said, stroking his bearded chin. "You are a guest in my home. You will be treated as such. All I want from you in return is your co-operation. Let my people study you, see if the dimension jump had any sort of adverse effect on you. Answer their questions as best you can. We'll do what we can to figure out what happened and how you managed to get here. If there is any way we can re-create the process, you have my word that we will do everything in our power to do it again."  
Kanthara snorted in derision as he spoke.  
"You've got something to say?" Xanatos asked, his voice dripping hostility.  
"You're word doesn't mean much."  
Xanatos shook his head and sighed. "The past is the past, why don't you try to forget about it."  
She opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it. Now was not the time, nor the place. She shook her head.  
Maverick stood, waiting patiently as the two shot sparks of anger towards each other. He cleared his throat to break the stalemate. "Fair enough, Xanatos."  
Xanatos stood and straightened his immaculate suit, the offered his hand. "As my guest, you'll be given your own private room. We can give you one with a Kitchen, or if you prefer I can have my personal staff cook your meals for you." He leaned over on his desk and tapped an unseen button. "Owen, please escort Mr. Maverick to his suite. Make sure he has everything he needs."  
Kanthara and Maverick exchanged looks. She shrugged, not knowing what to say.   
"I'm looking forward to working with you, Brett. There is much we can learn from one another."  
"Yeah. Same." Maverick said distractedly.   
On the other end of the huge room a door opened and in walked a tall, severe looking blond man. He walked ramrod straight and crossed the floor with surprising swiftness. He nodded to Xanatos, his stern expression never changing. "Mr. Xanatos."  
"Owen escort Brett to the suite, and make sure he has everything he'll need."  
The blond man stood to the side and waved his arm toward the door. "This way."  
Maverick nodded and walked towards the open door. Kanthara followed, catching up to him. Together they entered a much smaller elevator car and waited. The man named Owen stepped in after them and hit a button. The door on the car closed and they began to ascend once again. "Do you require anything? Change of clothing, a bath, entertainment?"   
The way he said bath, Maverick felt like he hadn't had one in a year. Even though it had only been a few days. "I guess a shower, some clean clothing and food would be good."  
"I'll have it sent right up," he replied as the elevator came to a stop. "Oh, and you have free reign of the tower, but we would prefer if you didn't leave, at least for a couple of days."  
With a sigh, Maverick nodded. "Why am I not surprised."  
The elevator door opened and he stopped. His mouth fell open and he stared, agape at the luxury before him.  
The huge room was easily forty feet wide by sixty feet long. It was designed to be one large, open room. The walls were thickly carpeted in rich maroon plush, and the walls were all natural wood fibers. There was even a huge fireplace off on the right wall, close to the window.   
At the back portion of the room was raised up to a platform, upon which rested a king sized bed, as well as a large walk in closet, a chest of drawers and a nightstand. All were crafted of hand carved oak.   
Along the left wall was an area set up to be the entertainment center. Three large couches sat in a semi circle with smaller lazy boy chairs. The furniture was natural leather, and there was a huge eight-foot screen built into the wall.   
Next to the elevator was the kitchen. The counters were made of marble and the cupboards carved from Mahogany. A large fridge was situated beside an equally large stove. Over the stove rested a microwave. Maverick found himself staring in wonder at the kitchen, knowing that Gitana would love to have something like it.  
But the luxury didn't stop there. On the other side of the kitchen stood a huge hot tub. It was cordoned off by a screen, and behind it he could see a shower stall with clear glass. Huge, fluffy towels hung on a rack beside the shower.   
"Fireblast!" He breathed.  
The best was yet to come. Directly ahead of him, the entire wall was nothing more than a huge window, showing the spectacular skyline of Manhattan.   
Owen led them into the suite and showed him how he could turn on the TV and stereo system. He showed him how to turn the massive, as well as how to give himself a little privacy when he used the bathroom.   
"If you need anything else, just pick up the phone. One of my people is on call and will get you anything you need."  
Dumbly, Maverick nodded. "Sure, food, and send up some clothing. No suits. I won't wear them."  
If anything, Owen appeared to scowl more so. But it was difficult to tell. "As you wish. Get your rest, Mr. Maverick. We won't call on you for a couple of days." He turned on his heel and entered the elevator.  
As soon as the doors closed, Kanthara squealed and leaped onto the couch before the TV. "This is incredible!"  
"Yeah, that's the understatement of the year..." Maverick said as he walked around the couch, running his hands over the soft leather. He sat down on the opposite end and stared at the blank TV. "If I'm a captive, I sure could get used to it."  
Kanthara nodded. "I agree."  
The scarred warrior scratched the stubble on his chin and yawned. He wiped his eyes, feeling the grit in them that comes from exhaustion. "I'm going to get cleaned up and get some sleep."  
"Ok, that much I can understand. You've been through a couple of really trying days." She made no move to leave.  
He shook his head and took off his jacket. Dropping the worn camouflaged garment on the couch, he headed towards the bathroom. Despite herself, Kanthara turned in her seat and stared at the man. His arms showed the scarring of numerous wounds suffered in the past. She could clearly make out the marks caused by knife and gunshot wounds, but the other scars had her mystified. When he took off his shirt, she bit back a gasp. His massive back was covered in what were clearly whip marks. "My god," she blurted out despite herself.  
He turned and grinned at her. "Ain't pretty, is it?"  
She nodded. As he turned, she could see that his left shoulder was nothing more than a mass of white, torn flesh that had been damaged many, many times. His right nipple was completely gone and there was a ragged scar that ran from the puckered flesh up to his shoulder. She could see the marks of numerous cuts on his flat, rippling stomach. She never realized that she had gotten out of her seat until she touched the ruined flesh.   
"What happened to you? How did you survive?"  
He shrugged, "Long story. But I told ya, I'm a survivor."  
Kanthara stood there, half admiring, half loathing the damaged body before her. Tentatively, she ran her hand over his back, feeling the alternating smooth, raised welts against the undamaged skin. "You were tortured." The Gargoyle shivered, remembering her own pain at the hands of Savarious.   
He pulled away from her touch, scowling slightly. "Don't touch me, Kanthara. Not like that."  
She pulled it back, as if it had been burned. "I'm sorry."  
"Never say you're sorry, it's a sign of weakness." I don't like people touching me, simple as that. And yes, I was tortured. And whipped. Baron in Florida did that to me when I refused to fuck him. If it wasn't for Ryan, J.B. Dix and the rest of Traders crew, I'd have had my balls cut off as well, before I was chilled."  
Kanthara shivered and wrapped her wings around herself. "And I thought I had been through some bad times."  
The scarred warrior dug through the cabinet above the large sink, testing out the various bottles until he found one that was full of shaving cream. He watered his face down and rubbed his gritty eyes again, letting the heated liquid soften the bristles of his beard. "Other than my family, I've never told anyone about that. Fact is, I actually chilled people for asking about my scars. But that's all in the past now."  
"Tell me about your wife." Kanthara asked. She knew that something had changed the man, which was as clear as the scarring he wore, almost proudly. And it had to be the woman.  
He smiled, his hand holding a razor that was half way up to his face. "My Gitana. She's a true beauty. Full of life, and fire. Passionate like you wouldn't believe in everything. From fighting to loving, to raising our daughter. I met her, after rescuing her from slavers." He left out the part that he was actually trying to steal the slavers truck at the time. "It wasn't long before we became lovers, and it just grew from there. She taught me to curb my anger, and that you don't always have to use your blaster to get out of something."  
Kanthara nodded.   
"And there is also Carmalita. I couldn't very well be the cold-blooded chiller that I was when I learned she was on the way." He shaved as he spoke, washing the razor under the water. He stopped and put the razor in the sink, letting his head lower as he closed his eyes. "She would have been our second."  
"Oh no..."  
Maverick nodded. "Yeah. Old enemy of mine, the slaver named Greaves. His men ambushed Gitana and myself when we were off taking a little time together. Gut shot her. If it wasn't for the body armor, she'd have been chilled too. Instead, we lost our unborn child. No idea what it was, boy or girl."  
"At least you have your family now."  
"Yup, and I hope to get back to them as soon as possible." When he had finished shaving, he grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped his face clean. "How about yours?"  
The yellow Gargoyle bit her lower lip. She was about to snap at him but forced herself to calm down. "They're dead. Happened a just before I became a Gargoyle. There is this local gangster named Dracon. He wiped out my gang, my whole family in one shot. I barely made it out alive."  
Maverick's face turned deadly cold. "I hope you made the fucker suffer, long and hard. Fucking cold hearts..."  
"No," Kanthara said, shaking her head. "He's doing jail time right now. I was able to get him thrown behind bars. It's enough. Besides," she said with a half smile," I have my new family now. The Manhattan clan."  
He eyed her for several heartbeats before speaking; "If it was me, nothing would have stopped me from finding him, and chilling him. No one messes with my family, or my friends. In the Deathlands, you keep careful watch over your friends, and you chill your enemy with extreme prejudice."  
"Brett," she said softly, clasping his biceps. "This isn't the Deathlands. You're in Manhattan. There are laws and rules that have to be followed. You can't just go around killing anyone." She could scarcely believe that she was saying those words.  
He smiled ruefully at her. "Believe me, I don't intend to stick around long enough to find out," he said as he undid his belt buckle.  
Kanthara backed away, eyes going wide. "What are you doing?"  
Maverick dropped his pants and boxers, not bothering to hide his nudity. "Taking a shower, what does it look like?" He said as he opened the shower stall and turned on the water.  
The yellow Gargoyles face felt burning hot and she quickly turned her back on the man. "You could have asked me to leave you know!" She stammered, her voice sounded a few octaves higher than she had intended.   
"What's the big deal?" He asked as he stepped into the shower.   
For one thing I wasn't expecting you to do that, she screamed in her mind. Standing there, your manhood hanging in all its glory... "Don't you believe in modesty?" She snapped hotly. "I'm a woman. A man doesn't just strip naked in front of a woman like that."  
She heard him sigh in the shower.   
"Look, where I come from, you don't have the luxury to be modest. Most of the time there isn't any way for privacy. So you get used to it."  
Kanthara went over to the large windows and adjusted the controls so they turned opaque. She stood there staring out over the skyline, half watching the reflection on the window from the room. "Next time, how about a little warning!"  
For a half hour the only sound was that of the shower. When the water stopped, Kanthara began to turn but stopped herself. She returned to staring out the window at the view, until Maverick stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. Her eyes caught the sight of his body and she felt old, familiar stirrings welling up. Growling at herself, she snapped her eyes shut and waited, forcing the stirrings down once again.  
"Kanthara," he called out. "I'm going to call for some food now. I guess that henchman to Xanatos wanted to give me the time to settle in. Do you want something?"  
She licked her lips. "A nice salad, maybe some Key lime pie."  
He picked up the phone and ordered what she wanted, as well as a thick steak, potatoes and vegetables for himself, and a fresh change of clothing. He sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, putting his bare feet on the table and closed his eyes. "Hey, thanks," he stated out of the blue.  
"For what?"  
"Mainly for catching me, but also for coming back here with me to face Xanatos. I could see you to don't exactly like each other."  
You mentioned something about understatement earlier, she thought. "No, we don't."  
Maverick didn't press the issue. "Still, not many people would do that for an outlander like myself. You've gained my respect."  
She smiled at his words. "Thanks, you're not so bad yourself, when you're not talking about killing or stripping in front of me."  
Light snores reached her ears. The scarred warrior had fallen asleep. There came a light rapping on the door and she noticed the man twitch slightly, but he didn't budge. She opened the door that led to the elevator and noted the two men standing there flanked by several armed guards. One had a trolley with the food they had ordered; the other man had a pile of clothing in his arms. She put a finger against her lips and hissed quietly. "He's sleeping," She reached out and took the pile of clothes and stepped aside so the first man could push the trolley into the room. They left without so much as a word.  
She moved across the room without making a sound and placed the clothing on the bed on the upper platform. It had taken a while to adjust to her new body, but like riding a bicycle, the skills of stealth she had perfected during her years on the street had returned.   
Kanthara grabbed the salad, and the pie, and stepped through the small door that led to the elevator. "Sleep well, Brett," she whispered and closed the door behind her.  
  
END 


	3. chapter 3

Rending  
By Chris Van Deelen  
  
As the last magenta rays of the setting sun disappeared over the western Horizon, the air filled with the sound of stone crackling and separating. Simultaneously, seven figures shed the stone shell that had encased them during the sunlight hours. Eight creatures roared out, as if being birthed, in unison.   
Goliath stood for a handful of seconds to take in his surroundings. They had only been back at Castle Wyvern for a few short weeks, and he still didn't fully trust David Xanatos, nor would he ever. But the sight of his clan mates greeted him and he smiled inwardly. The clan was safe, yet again.  
"Good evening, Goliath," came a rich, masculine voice from the shadows. David Xanatos stepped out of the alcove and joined the Gargoyles. "I trust you slept well?"  
The huge Gargoyle nodded. "Do you want something of us, Xanatos?"  
"Straight and to the point, something I always did admire about you, Goliath." Xanatos answered grinning behind his neatly trimmed beard. "I would like a word with Kanthara, if you please."  
As one, the six Gargoyles turned and looked at the newest member of the Manhattan Clan. She looked as surprised as the rest. "What do you want?" She asked, gruffly in order to hide the surprise she felt.  
"Care to come with me? I'm afraid I have some bad news regarding your friend, Mr. Maverick." The clan turned to look at Xanatos as he answered her.  
"What? Why are you telling me? Just go and tell him yourself." All eyes were on Kanthara as she spoke.   
"It's simple," Xanatos replied, then frowned as the rest of the spectators turned to look at him. "What I have to tell him is going to disturb him deeply. And I feel that he could react towards myself, and my personnel quite violently. He's trapped here, and I seriously doubt that there is any way we can ever return him to his own dimension. Although I can't see why he would ever want to go there."  
Kanthara mulled over the information, a frown crossing her face as the Manhattan clan turned, once again, to face her. "Would you stop that already? What is this, a tennis match?"  
Goliath scowled, but padded off into the castle, followed by Hudson and Bronx.   
Broadway rubbed his ample belly and smirked. "I guess I'll go round up some breakfast. You want to come Angela?"   
The younger woman smiled and took his arm, disappearing into the castle with him.   
Kanthara scowled ever so slightly at the smallest of the clan, Lexington. He shrugged and crouched on the ledge overlooking the city. "I guess I should go and see if I that computer equipment Eliza promised me is in," then he disappeared into the darkened sky.   
Brooklyn was the last to leave. It was painfully obvious that he wanted to hear what was going on. He stood defiantly, his arms crossed under his crimson chest. Kanthara just didn't feel like arguing with the head strong Gargoyle, so she turned her back on him.  
"So, you want me to tell him the bad news. That he can't return to his wife and daughter, his family!" She emphasized the last word.  
Xanatos nodded, his face grave. "In a nutshell, yes. You've seemed to have developed quite the rapport with him, and I believe that he would not react to the news quite so violently as he would if myself, or one my people spoke to him."  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Brooklyn bristle slightly. Without a word, the crimson, beak faced Gargoyle soared off into the night. She sighed internally, suddenly feeling a little guilty about the events that occurred over the past couple of nights.  
"Explain to me why you can't return him."  
And Xanatos did so. He laid it all out in layman's terms so the former street gang leader could understand. But unlike he had in the past he wasn't condescending to her.  
"So," she said when he was finished, "basically it was a freak accident that your people can't figure out. His, what was it? Stream? Was intercepted when there was a power fluctuation on his side of the stream, which caused a minor tear in the fabric of space and time. That his stream penetrated this tear and he ended up here. But at the same time, the stream continued onto its original destination?"  
Xanatos nodded once. "Precisely."  
"And that the other stream made it, and you are quite sure that Maverick ended up with his family on the other side."  
Again, he nodded. "We're trying to figure out exactly what took place, but when the stream was intercepted, because he was basically data being transferred along the quantum stream, he was copied and sent here. Everything intact. His memories, skills, clothing, weapons. Everything. What we essentially have here is a clone, an exact duplicate of the Original Maverick."  
Kanthara chewed on her thumb pondering Xanatos' words. "What makes you think he'll believe you? For that matter, why should I believe you either?"  
Clasping his hands behind his immaculate suit, Xanatos rolled his eyes heavenward. "To be blunt, why would I have any reason to keep him here against his will? After all, he has spent the past two days with my researchers, answering any and all questions they had. He's been incredibly forthcoming, and honest. The information he has provided my people is limited at best, and he has given us every scrap of information he has. Nothing has been left out."  
Kanthara met his eyes and stared into them. On the streets that would have been considered a challenge, but she wasn't looking to fight, she was looking for truth. Even a businessman like Xanatos, one who made deals worth billions of dollars couldn't totally hide what the soul held. All one had to do was gaze into the eyes. After all, it has been said many times in the past that the eyes are the mirrors to the soul. "I believe you," she said at last.  
"See, he has nothing to offer me, nothing that I could actually use. There is no reason for me to keep him."  
Kanthara nodded, agreeing with the businessman. For once. "What will he do now though?"  
Xanatos shrugged and slipped his hands into the suit's pockets. "That is entirely up to him. He is a stranger in a strange land. He'll have to adapt. Simple as that."  
Kanthara felt her anger building at Xanatos' callous words. Anger and puzzlement. Why should she be angry? Xanatos was correct. "But he's your responsibility now." She blurted in a heated voice, instantly regretting it.  
"How do you figure that?" Xanatos asked, one eyebrow raised.  
"It was your experiments that brought him here, so you have to deal with him. After all, I'm just a street punk turned Gargoyle, I can't exactly show him the ropes now, can I? He's gonna need Identification, a job, training how to deal with people so he doesn't kill anyone in a fit of anger..." she paused, letting it sink in.  
Long seconds ticked by as Xanatos went over her rants. "I've thought about that. Identification is not a problem, and a man as skilled as he is in combat and survival, I could use him as part of my security force."  
"Haven't you looked at him? He's a killer. The man is a pure predator. I can see it now, the first time anyone stepped into a restricted area that he was patrolling, you'd have a corpse on your hands."  
He held up his hands, getting angry as well. "Look, Kanthara, I'm offering possible solutions to what you said. To be honest, I did think about these things, and I am willing to make amends. I'm willing to help him adjust and fit in. That is, if he can."  
"Is he free to go?" She asked.  
"Yes, but I can't see where he would go. If he went out on his own, I'm willing to bet that in a matter of hours he would find himself under arrest and up on murder charges."  
He had another point, Kanthara had to admit. "I'll talk to him. Its going to be difficult for him, you know."  
Something akin to compassion crossed Xanatos' face. "I know. And let him know that even though it looks like he's trapped here, permanently, we're going to do everything in our power to try and send him back."  
Without a word, Kanthara turned and jumped into the air.  
  
***  
Lithely, she landed on the ledge outside the huge suite that had been given to the scarred warrior. He hadn't turned the windows opaque yet and she could see him sitting at the large table near the kitchen with a bottle of coke in one hand and a magazine in the other.   
She walked along the ledge, locating a window that she could easily open. She rapped her knuckles against the glass.   
Maverick turned his head and stared at her. He placed the magazine he was reading on the table and came across the room and opened the window for her. "Evening, Kanthara. Been a couple of days, how you doin?"  
Slipping into the room, she smiled at him. "I'm ok. How are you adjusting to life here?"  
He shrugged his massive shoulders. She noticed that he had given up his former attire for a pair of running shoes, black jeans, a white T-shirt and a black windbreaker. The only thing that he kept was the strange baseball cap that depicted a three-headed dog. "Bored. I'm not really into the shit that I see played on that big TV over there. Although I have been enjoying the stereo."  
She noticed in the background light notes coming from the speakers hidden around the suite. It was what many people considered to be old school music, Pink Floyd to be exact. "That's good."  
"You hungry?" He asked, going back to the table.  
"Yes, did you get your fridge stocked?"  
Maverick nodded and waved a hand at the appliance. "Feel free. Lots of meat, bread, but I got some veggies as well. Gitana would have a fit if I didn't eat plenty of greens."  
She winced, glad that his back was turned to her. "Smart woman," she commented as she busied herself in the fridge, pulling out things to make herself a nice salad. "How have they been treating you?" She asked, dropping an armload of vegetables onto the counter top.  
Maverick placed the magazine down on the table. "Really good. No cuffs, no sec men, nothing. Just a ton of questions. I have to wonder if they're not fireblasted mutie vamps though. Keep taking blood samples and stuff from me."  
"I'm glad," Kanthara beamed him a smile as she cut up tomatoes and carrots, dumping them into a mixing bowl with lots of lettuce.   
He crossed his arms under his massive chest. "What brings you here tonight?"  
What do I tell him? Just blurt it out or ease into it? She thought. "Just felt like visiting you, that's all. Not every day you meet someone from another dimension."  
"So true!" He laughed.  
Kanthara sat down opposite of him and began picking at her salad. "Have you gone out to explore at all?"  
"No. I just wanted to get all these tests over with and get home again. Besides, I've never seen that many people before. Going out there and walking around with them makes me nervous."  
And you would make them nervous as hell as well, she added silently. "I see. Hey, want some music while you're eating?"  
Kanthara shrugged indifferently, her mouth filled with lettuce. "Don't matter," came her slightly muffled reply.  
He went over to the stereo system and fiddled around with it. Soon 'Bad Moon on the Rise' came wafting through the hidden speakers. Despite herself, Kanthara had to smile at the irony.  
They sat in silence, he reading his magazine while she finished her lettuce. She knew that she had to tell him the bad news, and soon. "Brett, we need to talk."  
Maverick closed the dog-eared magazine and leaned back in his seat. "Sure, what's on your mind?"  
"Do you mind if we sit over there?" She pointed at the couch and chairs situated before the huge television screen.  
"Sure, don't matter to me," Maverick got up and sauntered over to the huge leather couch.   
She followed, sitting opposite from him in one of the large armchairs.  
He waited. And waited. And waited.   
"Well, what do you want to talk about?" He said testily.   
"Brett, you can't go home," Kanthara blurted out, her voice a few octaves higher than she had intended. Why did she feel so nervous? She wondered.  
Raising his head, Maverick scratched his neck, and then laughed. "Good one, Kanthara. You had me going there for a second."  
"I'm serious, Brett. You can't go home."  
He lowered his head very slowly and stared at her. There was a deadly glint in his gray orbs. "Explain to me why I can't go back home to be with my wife and daughter."  
Kanthara swallowed nervously, but steeled herself and explained to the scarred man, in detail, what Xanatos had told her. She even told him that the businessman was willing to help him adjust to his new life, and give him everything he needed.  
His face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. Maverick sat on the edge of the couch, replaying the words through his mind.  
"He promised that they would keep working, that they would do everything that they could to help you get back home. But... what if you are already there?"  
"Kanthara, leave." He said, his voice hollow.   
"You can talk to me, I'm here to help you," she said, almost pleading.   
"Leave!" He roared and shot to his feet, glaring at the yellow Gargoyle. She looked into his face and saw the agony, emotional agony laid bare for the whole world to see. It tore her heart apart to see it.  
She backed off and went to the window, not looking back.  
  
***  
  
High above the water, Kanthara sat silently on the top of the torch held high by the Statue of Liberty. The look on his face haunted her, but try as she might, she couldn't shake the memory of it.  
Over the sounds of the harbor, she heard the familiar rushing of air over wings. "There you are," called out a soft female voice.  
Angela joined her and stared out over the water. "What happened?"  
"I just told a man that he could never return to the only people he ever loved."  
She placed a hand on Kanthara's shoulder. "He took it really hard, didn't he?"  
Kanthara nodded, not trusting her voice. His pain mirrored her own. She had been thinking of her own family, forever lost to her.   
"Do you want to tell me about it?"  
"No, I'm ok. He's the one who's going to have to come to grips with what happened to him."  
Angela said nothing.  
Long minutes later, Kanthara broke the silence. "You're really lucky, you know."  
"Why do you say that?"   
"You've never lost someone you loved, never had your whole family ripped away from you. I know exactly how he feels."  
The younger woman placed her arm around Kanthara's shoulders and leaned into her. "I'm glad that I never had to deal with that. I've got my father, and my clan mates. And I've got Demona, despite the hatred she feels towards Goliath and the others. I hope that I never have to feel what you and he must be feeling now."  
"So do I, Angela, so do I." Kanthara steeled herself, forcing the wellspring of emotions back down as they threatened to overwhelm her. The clan knew about what had happened, even though she didn't' like to talk about it much.  
"Do you want to do anything? Maybe we can go back to the castle and spend some time with Hudson and Bronx. He's still glued to that old Television, watching his late night talk shows."  
Kanthara shook her head. "No. Lets just go gliding. That should help."  
Together, the only female members of the Manhattan clan ascended into the sky.  
  
***  
  
Almost a week had passed and there had been no word from Xanatos or Maverick. The few times that Kanthara had glided past his suite window, she couldn't see in as he had turned it opaque. She spent the nights with the clan, patrolling the skies or just being by herself. As usual Eliza came around now that she had time off from her duties to spend time with Goliath.  
Finally, she had enough. It was driving her crazy. She had refused to contact Xanatos and ask about him, and knew that if something had happened that he would have informed her.   
The night was particularly bright, even with the cloud cover. The multitude of lights from the city below reflected off the clouds, coating the city in a perpetual twilight. With the others gone, she decided it was high time to pay a visit to the scarred warrior.   
As she had days before, she landed on the ledge outside his apartment. The window was still opaque, but she knew if she leaned up as close as possible she would be able to see inside.   
From where she was standing, she could see the scarred warrior sitting on the couch. It was clear that he hadn't slept or bathed for days. He had a thick bush of stubble on his cheeks and chin and his hair was tussled and oily looking. He was staring at the blank television screen on the wall.  
His blaster was held firmly in his hand as he raised it towards his head.  
Kanthara smashed into the window with all her considerable Gargoyle might, shattering the thick glass and sending a shower of shards deep into the room. The survivalist whirled in his seat and aimed the gun, firing off a trio of shots. The first two shots missed clearly, hitting the other intact windows. The impacts caused the windows to spider web. The last round punched a hole clean through her left wing.  
As soon as he registered who it was, he raised the gun to the ceiling and leapt to his feet. "Oh, nukeshitting hell! I'm sorry Kanthara!"  
The gargoyles eyes were blazing white in her anger." You shot me, you asshole!"  
The scarred warrior dropped the gun onto the couch. "It's just a scratch. And what the fuck do you expect? You smashed through my window and scared the hell out of me."  
The blazing fire in her eyes dimmed. "But I saw..."  
He crossed his arms. "Saw what?"  
"I thought, well it looked... Oh, shit. I thought you were going to kill yourself," she stammered.   
"Kanthara you're more naïve than I ever imagined," he said bluntly, sitting back down on the couch.  
The former gang leader bristled at that. "Oh, I am, am I?"  
"Use common sense girl. I told you about where I came from, what sort of shit I had to endure. There is no fucking way that I'd ever chill myself. Wallow in sorrow and self-pity for a while, yes. But chill myself? Fireblast I figured you'd know me a bit better than that."  
The doorway leading to the elevator opened and several security guards burst into the room, their weapons at the ready. The leader of the guards, Collins, lowered his weapon and waved at the others to do the same. "Are you alright?" He asked.  
Maverick nodded. "Yeah, just a little misunderstanding. Leave us alone, would you?"  
Glaring somewhat, Collins ushered the rest of the security squad out of the room.  
Kanthara glared at the man, her arms crossed under her breasts. "Can you blame me for being concerned? For caring?" She growled as the security force left.  
His scarred features softened. "Kanthara, look... thanks. It's good to know you actually care enough to wonder how I'm doing. I'll be ok. After all, as you said, there is always hope."  
She crinkled her nose. "Well at the very least you could go take a shower. You smell really bad."  
Maverick nodded. Yeah, I guess I could. And Mebbe some food. I haven't done anything for the past week. Barely even slept."  
"I'll leave you be then," she turned to leave.  
"Kanthara? Please, stay. I really could use the company."  
She stopped herself. "Fine, I'll stay. But dammit, that hole you shot in my wing hurts!"  
"I've done more damage to myself shaving, Kanthara. That's just a scratch. Big baby."  
The anger built up in her, threatening to explode into violence. Then she looked into his eyes, those gray orbs that held so much pain and loneliness. She felt the rage trickle away like meltwater. "You're right. I've had a lot worse." She sighed. "But I'll stay under one condition."  
He was unbuttoning his shirt, "What's that?"  
"Have a little dignity, and don't strip in front of a woman!"  
The scarred warrior actually laughed. "Sure, you got it."  
Kanthara turned her back and stared out the window as he went into the cordoned off section that was his bathroom. As before, she could see his reflection in the glassy surface of the window. His scarred body still caused old stirrings to surge up. Her pulse quickened and she found herself breathing slightly harder than she had been earlier. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes from his reflection. Do you think I'm attractive? She thought. Probably not, you're human, and I'm a Gargoyle.   
A short time later he joined her. His face was clean and shaved, his hair neat and combed properly, and he was wearing fresh clothing. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry that I shot you."  
Patting his hand, she faced him. "I'm just glad you're alright. And it's nothing. A good day's sleep and I'll be as good as new. Her hand never left his, in fact, she felt herself holding it. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"  
He shrugged. "Yeah, I think I have. I was raised on a ranch. Mebbe I should go back to my roots and head to Montana. I'm triple good around horses, so shouldn't have any problems getting hired on."  
"You're going to become a cowboy then, hmm? Are you thinking of taking up Gambling as well?" Kanthara stifled a giggle at the inside joke.   
"Nah, never cared for gambling, not when I was with the Trader, nor with my band."  
"That's good. It can be a deadly habit to get caught up in. I saw a lot of lives destroyed by it."  
"Back home, it's different. Sure, we have various villes that use jack, er, money, but mainly we get by on bartering. A single bullet could buy you a meal and a nights rest in some of the places I had been to."  
She nodded. "I hope that you enjoy it. And I also hope that Xanatos will be able to find a way to get you home, even if you have a double. No one should ever have to be separated from their loved ones."  
Maverick closed his eyes and turned away. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair and sighed. "She was one in a million. I doubt I'll ever find someone like her."  
"You might not have to look as far as you think, Brett."  
"Who are we kidding, Kanthara. No woman would find me attractive. Look at me," he told her. He let go of her hand and stepped back, holding his arms wide. "You said it yourself. There is a deadly aura to me. People are scared of me. And these scars... what woman would find this attractive?"  
"There are plenty of women who would like you," she stepped up to him. "Some women feel that scars are very attractive. The sign of a person whose had to endure a great deal of pain and hardship. They survived and became stronger for it." She traced the trio of scars on his cheek with her finger. "And one look in your eyes, they could see what sort of man you are."  
He took her hand and pulled it away from his face. "I couldn't tell them how I got them. No one would believe me."  
"If they loved you, maybe they would. But," she hesitated, "you're right. I scarcely believe it myself."  
He grinned slightly and nodded. "See what I mean? And look at you. You've been through something almost as fantastic as I have."  
As they talked, she drew her body closer to his, until her hand was resting on his muscular chest. "Yes, I do. After all, why would you believe that I was once a human."  
"What did you mean about seeing what kind of man I was, by looking in my eyes?"  
"I can see," she looked straight into his eyes, "a man who loves his wife and child more than life itself. I can see the longing and the need to get back to them. The hurt from your separation, the knowledge that you might never be able to get back to them, is as obvious as if you had spoken it aloud." Her arm curled around his waist.   
"You can see all that huh?"  
"Yes, and more." She leaned in and gently brushed her lips across his. When he didn't resist, she kissed him fully, pressing her body against his.  
He engulfed her in his muscular arms, holding her gently as he returned her kiss. He ran his hand down her back, feeling the strange musculature of her wing structure and cupping her rump.  
Kanthara shivered at the touch. It had been so long since she had been with a man. Not once since she became a Gargoyle, and not since she had lost her gang. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding his head tightly as they exchanged their pent up passion.   
"Kanthara..." he breathed huskily. "I... can't. It just doesn't feel right."  
The yellow Gargoyle kept her body pressed against his, feeling the heat of his passion and arousal. "Why?"  
"Because of my wife and daughter," he said, pushing himself away from her. "I also feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I'm hurting, and it feels like I'm just using you."  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," she turned away from him. The fires of desire burned hotly, but they would never be quenched in his arms.   
"Don't blame yourself. You're a real beauty, even if you ain't human. It's not you, it's me. I can't bring myself to it."  
She turned to face him. Tears brimmed in her eyes but she smiled. "You mean that? You think I'm pretty?"  
Maverick stroked her cheek, wiping one of the tears away with his thumb. "Not pretty, you're really beautiful. But, until I know for sure that there isn't any way that I can get back to Gitana and Carmalita, I can't."  
Kanthara nodded, not trusting her voice. She embraced him and kissed him quickly, hotly, then let him go and left the suite.  
For long minutes Maverick stood at the window running his fingers over his lips and watching her supple form grow smaller and smaller. He never noticed the red gargoyle watching from one of the near by buildings.   
  
***  
  
The red lights on the clock blinked three AM merrily as he rolled over in his huge bed. The scarred warrior couldn't sleep, despite the bone deep weariness he felt. There were far too many things where on his mind. His lost family, the new and strange world he found himself trapped in, and the beautiful yellow Gargoyle that had come into his life.   
He slipped out of the sheets and dressed quickly. He needed some night air, but still couldn't risk going to the streets. He knew deep down that there would be trouble if he did. He went over to the door leading to the elevator and called the car. Next to the button was a general map of the building. He studied it until the car arrived.  
Once inside, he hit the button to the top floor. The elevator ascended rapidly but came to a smooth stop, scarcely a jolt as the car terminated its ascent. The doors slid open smoothly to a darkened stone corridor. He could make out electrical lights at intervals along the chamber, in the place of scones that at one time had held torches.   
The weight of the centuries pressed down on the scarred warrior as he walked down the ancient corridor. The castle was older than he could imagine, dating back well over a thousand years. He mused that each stone could fill an encyclopedia with the events that had occurred as time flowed past, immutable and unstoppable as a river.   
He walked through the corridors and chambers, working his way ever higher with each step. Finally he came to the great hall and spotted a lone figure sitting in a comfortable armchair, a large dog lying next to him. Before him was a roaring fireplace and a television set.   
"Dinna jus' stand there lad, come closer and introduce yeself," invited the seated figure.   
"I don't want to disturb you," Maverick said.  
"Tis no disturbance at all, lad. Come, sit by the fire and make yourself known."  
Reluctantly, Maverick complied. To his surprise, the dog wasn't a true dog as he had originally though. It was some sort of mutated canine. Oddly, it shared many features to the Gargoyles that he had encountered thus far. It raised his head, staring at him impassively. The creature showed no hostility towards the newcomer, despite him being armed.  
"Name's Brett Maverick." He said, closing in on the seated figure.  
"Aye, the lass' new friend. The newcomer, an accidental visitor from another place. You can call me Hudson," The seated figure was an old, bearded Gargoyle who had a scar running down the left side of his face. It started at the ridgeline and crossed down over his eye and cheek, ending at mouth level. His eye was a milky white, the vision having been destroyed when he received the scar. He had a face that commanded respect.  
Maverick held out his hand. "That I am."  
Hudson took his hand and shook it. The older Gargoyle had a strong, warm grip. He smiled. "Then, welcome to Manhattan lad. Are ye any relation to a Jim Garner, perhaps?"  
Maverick shook his head, "Can't say that I've ever heard of him."  
"Tis but a joke lad. Let these old eyes get a better look at you," the scarred gargoyle climbed to his feet and studied the younger man. "Aye, you are a warrior. I can see it. You've spilt a lot of blood, both yours and that of your enemies. But, I can also see that ye've never taken a life unjustly."  
"Honestly? I probably have. More than I can remember. It's the way of my home. Chill or be chilled. I've tried to chill only when I had to though, over the past few years." He held out his hand and crouched as the large mastiff like gargoyle padded towards him. He held out his hand for the Gargoyle to sniff. "Your... dog, does it have a name?"  
"The boy's name is Bronx," Hudson answered.   
Bronx sniffed Mavericks fingers, then licked them, deciding that he liked the stranger. Maverick in return scratched the huge dog like gargoyle behind the fan like ears.   
"Now I know ye be a good man," Hudson laughed. "If ye dinna have a good heart, Bronx would be chasin yer tail outta here by now."  
Maverick gave Bronx one last scratch and patted the gargoyle on the head as he stood. "I don't doubt that."  
Sitting back down, Hudson made himself comfortable. "How de ye like it here lad? I be guessin that ye are having trouble adjustin."  
"You could say that. Totally different from what I knew."  
"Aye, I be knowin' that feelin meself lad."  
"Look, I don't want to sound rude or anything, but I need some air."  
Hudson waved his hand and his weather beaten features cracked a grin. "I dinna wish to keep ya lad. Go, git yer air. Just wanted to meet ya."  
"It's been a pleasure, Hudson. I guess I'll be seeing you around, at least for a little while." He told the older Gargoyle as he made his way out of the great hall into the open courtyard.   
The night had become overcast and there was a distinct chill to the air, but he didn't mind it. After spending so much time indoors, he found himself missing the feel of nature in all its glory. Climbing the staircase, he made his way to the ramparts above the castle and stared out over the city. Funny thought Maverick, he was actually looking down at the clouds instead of up. Here and there he could see the tell tale lights from the other buildings, peeking up through the clouds.  
Years of survival in the Deathlands triggered his internal warning. He could feel that someone was approaching him. The warrior stood silently, relishing the wind and the cool night air. Behind him, something landed as gently as a feather on the stone floor work.   
"Evening," Maverick said, never tearing his eyes from the clouds below.  
"Hello, Maverick."  
I'm a well-known man, so it seems, he mused. "Nice night."  
"That it is. Did you enjoy your time with Kanthara?"  
Maverick could detect a hint of anger in the newcomer's voice. "We talked. She helped me out of a bad scrape."  
Footsteps approached from behind. Maverick let his hand rest on the butt of his big bored blaster.   
"Is that so?" The newcomer asked. "Funny, shooting a person who helped you."  
He could feel his own anger building. "She's fine. I grazed her. You don't startle a man like myself, one who's had to fight for his very survival most of his life."  
"Yeah, well idiots who play with guns never learn."  
Maverick turned around and looked at the newcomer. As he suspected, it was yet another Gargoyle. This one was of medium build and his flesh was a dark crimson. Unlike the other Gargoyles, he had a hawkish face, his mouth more like a beak than anything. The scarred warrior fought down the urge to draw his weapon and use it. "And idiots should know better than to sneak up on people, or smash through a window."  
Glowering, the crimson Gargoyle crossed his arms under his chest. "At least you didn't hurt her."  
"There is something we can agree on. So, you got a name, crow face, or do we just stand here and insult each other?"  
"Hey, screw you human. I'm damned proud of the way I look. Call me Brooklyn or don't call me anything." The gargoyle took a step towards the armed survivalist.   
"I won't call you names if you don't call me human, and if you take the time to calm down, hotshot."  
"Fine, Maverick."  
He nodded, his eyes narrowed. "So, other than me accidentally shooting her, what's got your balls in a vise? Or is it that most of you Gargoyles feel threatened by a human survivalist? Seems that you've got too much testosterone in your system, Brooklyn. Go out and get laid."  
"You sure seemed bent on that tonight, the way you two were lip locked," Brooklyn rumbled.  
Slowly, Maverick moved his hand away from the butt of his weapon. He didn't have any wish to use it, despite the anger he felt. "Believe me, Brooklyn. If I wanted to get laid so damned much tonight, I sure as hell wouldn't be standing here arguing with you."  
"Then why are you standing here?" the crimson gargoyle retorted.   
"Because, it wasn't right, that's why. And Fireblast, what is it to you? She's a grown woman," and what a woman, he added silently; "so she can make her own decisions. She doesn't need a chaperone."  
"What are you implying?"  
"Fireblast, why don't you just admit it, Brooklyn. I'm infringing on your girl, and you're pissed at me. You may not have a human face, but I can see the jealousy in your eyes. After all, I'm a lot older than you, and I can read a face."  
"She... she's not my girl."  
"Ok, if she's not your girl, then why are you getting so fireblasted riled up about this? Huh?"  
"I don't want to see her hurt, that's all. She's been through a lot, and I don't need some idiot coming along and messing with her emotions."  
Maverick actually smiled. "Brooklyn, why don't you tell her the way you feel? I'm not going to mess with her. I'm married. I've got a wife and a daughter. If I let myself be controlled by the way I feel, I'd be little more than an animal, wouldn't I?"  
"No," Brooklyn admitted. "I guess not."  
"Son, then instead of standing here and waving your dick at me, go out and find her. Talk to her and tell her how you feel. You may not know it, but I'm pretty good at reading people. You're attracted to her, and it's strong."  
"I ain't your son, and I haven't waved my dick at you."  
"It's an expression. And sorry, but I've probably got at least a decade on you. And after what you and her had been through, I'm not surprised you feel that way."  
Brooklyn looked at him incredulously. "You know?"  
"Yeah, she told me what happened to her. She told me that she was human at one time. You did good, rescuing her."  
The red Gargoyle pondered what he said.  
"Go on, go find her. She needs a friend now."  
Brooklyn nodded. "I think I will." He crouched, ready to leap into the air and take flight.  
"Hey, just one more thing,"  
"What?"  
"Tell her good bye. But, wait till tomorrow night. I won't be around any more."  
Brooklyn nodded. "I will. Uh, good luck."  
Maverick chuckled and smiled at the crimson Gargoyle. "You too, Brooklyn. Don't ever let a beauty like that slip away. Ever. You'll regret it for the rest of your life it you do."  
Without fanfair, Brooklyn glided away, leaving the warrior to his thoughts.   
  
***  
  
Back in his suite, Maverick picked up the phone. Instantly, someone answered it. "Can I help you?"  
"Yeah, tell Xanatos that I'm ready to leave. I want to talk to him when he has the time."  
"I will pass your message on. Is there anything else?"  
"No, that's it." He hung up the phone and went over to the window that had been repaired in his absence. The sun was just starting to peer over the horizon, and it held the promise of a beautiful day.   
The scarred warrior placed his hand on the window and sighed. "It was nice knowing you, Kanthara. I hope that you and Brooklyn have a great life. I doubt I'll see you again, ever."  
He turned away and went to the bed, hoping to get a few hours sleep before leaving.  
  
END 


	4. Chapter 4

Longings  
By Chris Van Deelen  
  
It was a beautiful night, the moon pregnant, hung far overhead. The summer air was filled with the scent of blossoming flowers and freshly cut grass. Like a silver plate, the moon shone off the crystal clear lake, casting a ghostly glow on the trees that lined the shore.   
The beach was unmarred by footsteps, as if no single soul had strode upon it since time immemorial. A solitary figure stood, staring out over the glass smooth lake. He was dressed as he normally was, in a simple pair of black jeans, running shoes, a leather jacket and white shirt. The jacket didn't do a thing to conceal the musculature that strained at the seams. In the silvery light, his scars seemed lessened, softened.  
His gray eyes turned heavenward as a figure glided like a silver ghost, gently caressing the sky with her large, graceful wings. As light as a rose petal, she landed on the sands next to the muscular man. She was adorned in a simple white shroud; which flowed like mercury over her supple form.   
No word left their lips as he reached out and took her hand in his, smiling into her large golden brown orbs. The woman's wings folded around her shoulders, the tiny claws clasping just under her throat.   
Her face lit the darkness as brightly as any sunrise could. She took his hand and stepped up close, resting her head against his chest. Together, they stood as the crickets and other night creatures sang their melodious songs around them. Her tail swished rhythmically back and forth in perfect time with his heartbeat.   
After an eternity, she broke away, and slid off the sandy beach towards the dark, but inviting woods a few yards away. She leaned against one of the ancient oaks, one hand held above her head, the other beckoning him to her.   
He followed, not as gracefully, but with power, a certainty of his strength and skills. As he approached her, the yellow toned Gargoyle giggled lightly and slide behind the tree, spreading her wings.  
He smiled and shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the dew damp grass beneath his feet. Up to the tree he trotted, and reached out to take one of the graceful wings. It dodged easily from his hand, but it didn't deter the scarred male one iota. He rounded the tree, grabbing for the elusive beauty.  
But she wasn't there.   
Looking up, he spotted her smiling face several yards above him, her golden wings folded once again around her slim form. He shook his head, smiling at her unfair advantage.   
Lightly, she dropped from the tree into his waiting arms. Her body felt like a small child as he cradled her, rocking her back and forth.   
Together, the human and the Gargoyle stared into one another's eyes, letting the unspoken feelings travel along the path of the soul, sharing with one another more than words could ever convey.   
She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled his face down towards her. Hungrily, she kissed him, running her tongue over his lips, tasting his flesh. He held her tightly, returning the impassioned kisses with his own. As they stood, locked in primal passions, the woman's tail wrapped around his leg, sliding sensuously around it.   
The hungry contact gave way to gentle pecks and nibbles on the lips and neck, both of who found highly stimulating. The sounds of the night forest gave way to the combined thunder of their heartbeats.   
He lowered her to the ground, letting his strong, calloused hands slide up and down her sides, cupping her breasts and caressing the curves of her hips and thighs. The gargoyle closed her eyes and sighed at the gentle but insistent touch. The silken fabric of her white, almost translucent shroud added to the sensation. The softness combined with the roughness of his hands was a study in arousing contrasts.   
She stretched out, her arms reaching high above her head as she let her wings unfurl, giving her the appearance of a heavenly angel brought down to earth. She moaned quietly as he slid his hands under her shroud and cupped her breasts, running his palms over the nipples, bringing them to rock hardness in seconds.   
His hands still on her supple breasts, he leaned forward and kissed her once again, then slid his tongue down her cheek, following the curve of her jaw line until he reached her slightly pointed ear. His teeth ran over the lob before he closed his lips on it and licked the very tip.  
The sensation caused a shudder to run through the golden Gargoyle's body, her hips arching in anticipation. The air around the two lovers became heavy with the musk of desire.   
He hovered above her for many beats of their hearts, nipping and suckling on her neck and ears, blowing lightly over the tender flesh until finally, he touched the small tie at the base of her neck and undid it, letting the shroud fall from her nimble body.  
But she wouldn't allow him to continue. Her body positively glowing with desire, she sat up and pushed him back until he was on his knees before her. She ran her hands under his white t-shirt, feeling the rippling muscle under her palms. The flesh was hard, and she could feel the many battle scars he wore like badges of honor. Her hands slid around his back and down into his pants, cupping his strong rear, then up again, over his whip scarred back and over his head, taking the shirt with them.  
As he had with her, the golden yellow gargoyle pushed him down so he was flat on his back. She kneaded his muscular stomach and pecks beneath her strong hands, feeling the hard flesh as she worked. With a coy smile, she slid her tongue over each scar, tracing the white flesh from its origin to its termination point. He laid still, enjoying the sensation of pleasure over flesh that had been torn asunder, pleasure over-riding the echoing memory of pain.   
She laid on top of him, her breasts sliding over his muscular peck, the softness against the near rock hardness. She turned her torso slightly, letting her supple, but firm breasts run small circles over his belly, the golden nipples carving gentle pathways over the torn flesh.   
Lower and lower she moved, her body never leaving contact with his until she found her face over his groin. The golden yellow gargoyle undid his pants and slid them down, exposing his engorged member to the cool night air. Only then did she break the physical contact. She turned around completely and positioned her white groin above his face, letting the musk of her desire and need fill his nostrils.   
He took her smooth rear in his hands and pulled it down so that his nose and lips were buried between the softness of her perfectly formed bottom. His tongue snaked out and licked the sweet, blood filled flesh of her lips, tasting her cravings.  
In turn, the golden yellow gargoyle took his manhood in her hand and ran her fingers up and down the hardened shaft. She wrapped her lips around the tip of the head, sucking gently as she went. As she had earlier, a shudder worked its way from her hand, traveling down the length of the man's body. A whimper of pleasure broke free from her lips as he slid his own tongue deep inside her heated moistness.  
Like a man dying of thirst, the lapped at her soft flesh, probing with his tongue and biting tenderly, explicating urgent movement from her hips. In turn, she bobbed up and down, licking the entire shaft while occasionally pulling off so she could suck on the tender, sensitive flesh just under the tip.   
Minutes felt like hours to the human and Gargoyle as they gave one another pleasure. Bodies moved in perfect timing as their mutual desire built up to the point they were both ready to climax volcanically. Only then, did they end their ministrations upon one another.   
She stood, leaving him on the ground panting, his face glistening from her pheromone heavy juices. She held out her hand and he took it. The golden Yellow Gargoyle pulled him to his feet as she leaned her back against the giant oak tree. He placed his hands on her buttery smooth hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her legs, so she could wrap them around his thighs.   
Like a hand sliding into a perfectly fitting glove, he entered her hot sex, filling her with his manhood. The golden yellow Gargoyles eyes widened at the sensation she had not experience for a long time, a gasp of pleasure breaking her boundaries.  
As one, the human and the Gargoyle rocked together, sliding on and off his manhood. She was so slick, the sensation, the friction almost brought the man to a explosive climax until he pinned her against the heavy oak tree, forcing her to slow down.   
Hungrily, her mouth met his, their lips touching, panting, and sharing in one another's breath. Finally he backed off from her, sliding out as he slipped to the cool, wet grass.  
She straddled his groin, positioning her sopping sex over his manhood, which was gripped in her hand. She allowed the very tip to enter her, as she slid it back and forth between her distended lips. He trembled as he spurted once. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to take her full pleasure, she stopped and smiled down at him, letting the near eruption to subside for the time being.  
He nodded his head once, letting he know that he was ready to continue, the danger of his pleasure occurring first finally subsiding. She lowered herself onto his shimmering shaft, moaning loudly as it filled her completely.   
The scarred man reached out and fondled her breasts, lightly pinching the nipples between his thumb and forefingers as she rocked back and forth, grinding her hips in a figure eight.   
The entire time, he watched her face, thrusting in as she rocked down on him, giving her as much sensation as he could. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she let the feeling of physical love overwhelm her, to take total control of her mind and body. He let one breast go in order to slide his hand onto her hip, letting his thumb slide down through the snowy patch of down, till he could touch the swollen nib nestled between the slick fleshy lips.   
She cried out in near ecstasy as his thumb rubbed up and down the tender nib, causing her body to respond even faster. The figure eight movements of her hips gave way to the steady, ever increasing rocking back and forth.   
Biting his lower lip so the slight pain would dampen his own impending explosion, he moved in perfect time with her, letting her take the maximum pleasure that she could from their coupling.  
She screamed into the night air as the orgasm took her. Wings spread, she cried passionately with each stroke, her tail thrashing about. Her eyes snapped open as she lowered herself down on him, forcing him to close his legs together as she closed her own, tightening her sex over his manhood. Grinding her hips, she slid almost viscously up and down his shaft, squealing with each stroke.   
He felt the coppery taste of blood flow from his lip as he bit down to prevent himself from achieving his own climax. He wanted her to finish, to be totally satisfied. If he allowed himself to experience his own pleasure, then she might not reach her ultimate satisfaction.  
Uttering one last cry of ecstasy, she fell onto his chest, panting heavily. Sweat dripped off her golden flesh as she came down from her climax. Sleepily, she looked into his eyes, asking the eternal question. He shook his head and gently lifted her off him, rolling over so that he was on top of her.  
He dug his knees into the ground and pulled her up into a crouching position, but kept her torso flat to the ground. Her tail was awkward, but he was able to pull it aside so that he could slide his manhood into her waiting body. She gasped as he entered her and he didn't waste any time. He had delayed his own pleasure long enough and his body demanded the release it so desperately wanted. He rocked back onto his heels and brought his knees up so that he could lock them on her perfect rear end, allowing for full penetration as he thrusted into her. A growl built in his throat as he felt himself closing in on that final destination, his body ready to give that release that meant both the end of his pleasure, but the potential for new life.  
The tingling sensation burst from his groin as he exploded into the beautiful gargoyle. Like liquid fire, it spread up his stomach and back, coursing down his arms and legs as he growled out his own pleasure. Holding himself in her for a heartbeat, he finally pulled out and rolled onto the grass beside her, panting and sweating heavily.   
Both of them spent, she put her arm and head on his heated chest and smiled up at him, kissing his sweat slick flesh and smiling contentedly. Her wing covered him as they let the pleasure induced exhaustion overcome them.   
  
***  
  
As the sun set, the golden yellow Gargoyle named Kanthara burst from her stone cocoon, roaring into the darkening sky. She couldn't believe the vivid, erotic dream she had just had. Typically she never dreamed in her stone state, but this was one of those times. She looked over at Brooklyn, who smiled and motioned for her to stop. But the memories were still hot in her mind, and she had to see the scarred warrior. Just once. She jumped off the tower without a single look back.   
  
***  
  
Nearly five hundred miles away, Maverick jerked awake. The aircraft had left the JFK airport nearly an hour earlier, and the warrior found that he couldn't keep his eyes open. He had drifted off to sleep.   
Xanatos had been decent enough to give him his papers, and had even pulled a few strings to help the warrior get a job as a wrangler on one of the many ranches that dotted the Montana landscape.   
Maverick shifted uncomfortably in his chair; quite aware of the near painful erection he was experiencing. His mind was filled with the imagery and he could actually taste her on his lips, smell her sweet musk in his nose.   
He had experienced many vivid dreams over the years, some induced by the Mat trans. But few had been as vivid as the one he had just enjoyed.   
Glancing out of the window of the empty cabin, he sighed. His eyes were facing east, back to where the city of Manhattan and the beautiful Gargoyle, Kanthara, lay. Deep inside his heart, he was already missing her.   
  
***  
  
Kanthara landed gracefully on the window ledge and knocked on the window. She placed her face against the glass and saw that the room was now barren. All the furniture had been moved out and it had a sterile look to it.  
"Oh, no... Brett, why didn't you at least say goodbye?" She turned and took off into the night, fighting back the tears that she so desperately wanted to shed, but couldn't understand why.  
  
END 


	5. Chapter 5

Souls  
By Chris Van Deelen  
  
Far above, three female Gargoyles floated in the night sky. All were strikingly beautiful, and appeared to be identical triplets. The only thing that step them apart from one another was the color of their hair. One was blond, the other had tresses as dark as a ravens wing, while the third's blazed like the heart of a furnace. That alone made the trio unusual.   
But what was even more unusual about the three of them was that they had been there for hours, well before sunset. No Gargoyle, with the exception of Demona, could resist the suns rays. Once the sun crested the horizon, the Gargoyles turned to stone, hibernating for another day.   
"Sisters, it is done. The dream sharing has completed." Announced the crimson mane gargoyle.  
The blond nodded and spread her hands wide. "The memories will begin to return to the once human. She will understand."  
"But what about the one from otherwhere? What will his role be in this play?" Asked the raven haired one.  
"Many cusps are to be played out. She will either embrace her new life, her old life, or she will forsake everything her wandering spirit has strived for over the untold moons. He will play a role, one that Oberon himself has set for him. The road is wrought with pain and loss, of which he alone is suited to handle," the blond recited.  
"But of these cusps, how will they affect the others?" Asked the raven haired Gargoyle. She faced the flame haired female, searching her eyes for an answer.  
"Either or, one or the other, will become hers," the vermilion haired Gargoyle said. "They must deal with it overcome each obstacle. There are to be many, but even I am not allowed to see. In one, she fully embraces what she is, what she was, and forsakes her birthright. In another, the longing for what she endured for so many lifetimes beckons her and she returns. A third, A death will occur. Who's it is, I will not tell. But there is also a forth... one in which the hearts yearnings will over-rule and a heritage will be forgotten, and a new life embraced. The majority will lose but one, where as the minority will gain a powerful warrior, and many new members will come of that."  
Nothing else was said as the three Gargoyles stared down at the single figure gliding away from the monolithic tower.  
  
***  
  
  
It was late October, only a scant week away from all hallows eve. The golden yellow gargoyle sat perched on one of the archways that loomed over Castle Wyvern, her brow furrowed in thought. Why did he remain in her memories? What was it about that scarred warrior from another dimension that stuck with her? Why was she so hurt by him leaving without so much as a goodbye, except what was said in passing by her friend, Brooklyn.   
He was man she had met and briefly knew. Similar things had happened before, yet none of the others stuck in her mind as he had.   
That bothered her. She had been growing closer to Brooklyn but there was still that edge between them. Was it her? Was it the memory of those lonely gray eyes? Was it Brooklyn himself?  
She chewed on her lower lip, trying to make sense of it all.  
  
***  
  
Half a continent away...   
Brett unrolled his sleeping bag and laid it out beside the roaring fire. It was late October, and the nights were turning cold, fast. The night sky was thick with clouds and the air carried the promise of snow.   
His job at the moment was heading deep into the range, through the foothills of the Rockie Mountains, and over the thousands of Acers that his employer owned. He was searching for strays, or any sign of poachers or trespassers. He had been on the trail for well over a week, never once having seen another soul.   
It suited the scarred warrior just fine. Months before, when he arrived at the ranch, people instantly gave him a wide berth. No one wanted to talk to the scarred stranger who very presences oozed hostility and danger.   
At the meeting, Clint Rogers, his employer, was ready to put him back on the plane and send him packing. But Maverick simply stated that he'd be hard pressed to find someone as good with horses as he was.  
Rogers decided to see if the scarred stranger was blowing hot air or if he actually knew what he was talking about.   
The next morning, Maverick had shown them all that there wasn't a horse that he couldn't handle. Clint Rogers hired him on the spot.  
A week after he had joined the other wranglers, Maverick found that he wasn't well liked, or appreciated. Not that he really cared. The other wranglers tried to 'persuade' him into leaving. Of the eight, five had to be hospitalized, and the other three had been badly beaten. But no one died. Maverick came out of the fight without as much as a bruise.  
No one messed with him after that. Rogers was livid, but he understood that Maverick had been defending himself, and he had to admit that few of his hired hands worked as well or as hard as the silent, scarred stranger. So, he put him into the field with a cell phone, radio, all the equipment he could need, and told him to patrol the range.  
Which suited the warrior just fine.  
He opened a saddlebag on the pinto that was his steed, and withdrew a package of trail mix, some strips of jerky and a small, white teddy bear. Stuffing the jerky in his mouth, he sat down on the bedroll and clutched the bear to his chest, and stared into the fire.  
Unnoticed, a single tear rolled down his stubble-covered cheek.   
  
***  
  
Ugo stood at the very edge of the Cliffside, Tetsuo grasped in his talon, his feet dangling over the chasm that yawned beneath him.  
"Hold, Gatsuko. Not another step or your little brother will learn what it is to fly."  
The golden yellow gargoyle stood her ground, her breasts heaving in helpless rage. Her kimono was slightly askew from the battle she had just endured, but otherwise she was unhurt. The katana was gripped firmly in her hands, as she stared down the large blue Gargoyle.   
Ugo stood well over seven feet tall and his face was a mask of cruelty. It was no wonder so many of the Samurai of the day had used his visage on masks. The very sight of the dark blue gargoyle caused many of the humans to flee in terror.   
He was a traitor to both his own kind, and to the humans that they were sworn to protect, an oath that was sworn generations ago by the first Gargoyle Dynamo, one of her distant relatives, at least five generations removed.   
The gargoyle had gone Ronin, he had turned his back on his clan and the humans. The gold and treasures that could be taken at will were his and his alone. He cared little for traditions, or for the humans that he found inferior in his eyes. Gatsuko could still hear his words the night he abandoned the clan. "We are the superior kind. Look at them, weak, pathetic. Unable to defend themselves without our help. Why should we waste our time on the likes of them?"  
"Let him go, Ugo. He is nothing to you. If you want to fight, then face me. But leave him out of it," she hissed, her eyes blazing white in rage.   
The larger gargoyles face twisted cruelly, and he said; "As you wish, Gatsuko," And his hand opened. Tetsuo screamed as he plummeted out of sight.  
"Bastard," she cried. All reason left her as she tore off the kimono that she had been wearing. The loose folds of cloth would only get in her way. The garment wasn't made for battle - it was made for travel. She threw the torn clothing at the larger gargoyle, in an attempt to distract him.   
Ugo merely swatted the garment away as if it were nothing more than a slightly annoying gnat. He flapped his massive wings, stirring up dust and grit. The move had its desired effect. Gatsuko threw up her arm to protect her eyes from the sudden sand storm and she staggered back, half blind.   
The larger gargoyle pressed on the attack. He came at her, his massive arms swinging the blade back and forth in wide, sweeping arcs, forcing the much smaller and lighter Gargoyle to retreat even further.   
She took to the air gracefully, her wings opened to the howls of the wind on the lonely Cliffside. Ugo stopped his wing buffets as she took to riding the waves of wind. Pushing off the ground with his powerful legs, he instantly caught a current and joined her, his blade flashing in the moonlight.  
She countered the blow with her Katana, the two blades singing with sparks and the screech of metal on metal. Using her tail, she whipped it around and slammed it into the larger Gargoyles face, momentarily blinding him as she spun around. His blade slashed out and carved a deep gash along her thigh. Gatsuko cried out in pain as the blade sunk deep. Her whole leg went numb almost instantly.  
Ugo smiled in delight, seeing he had managed to wound his opponent. "You should have joined me," he mocked. "Think of the magnificent young you would have born to me."  
Tears of pain half blinded her as she glided away. Blood flowed out of the long wound, leaving a trail of crimson droplets as she tried to put as much distance as she could between herself and the male Gargoyle. The thought of the man killer touching her body was more revolting than she could have ever imagined in her worst dream.   
It fueled her rage to nightmarish levels.   
Snarling, she shot straight up and did a single barrel roll, coming straight at the male Gargoyle, her Katana held out before her, firmly gripped in both fists. Ugo laughed at her, taunting her on.   
The golden yellow Gargoyle flashed by him, and the laughter stopped. The arm holding the Katana, as well as part of his wing, fell to the ground far below. He looked at the stump, mystified by the river of crimson spurting out in time with his heartbeat. "How?" He asked stupid.   
Gatsuko spun around once again, and followed the male as he plummeted to the earth below. Her Katana flashed out once again and his head separated from his shoulders.  
The body landed with a sickening crunch, most of the bones smashing on impact. The head landed a few meters away; just seconds after the body and split apart like a ripe melon.   
Her large feet lightly touched the ground and she stumbled forward, her body weakened from the loss of blood. She quickly found her discarded Kimono and tied it around the wicked slash along her thigh, staunching the blood flow. Steeling herself, she went to the Cliffside and looked over, knowing what she would see.  
About a third of the way down the cliff, Gatsuko saw her young charge, barely hanging onto a outcropping of roots. He looked up at her, fear shining brightly in his dark eyes. "Help me, big sister!" He cried.  
She launched herself off the cliff, spreading her wings wide. A downdraft caught her and she rode it, carrying her ever nearer to the young man. He struggled gallantly to maintain his hold on the roots, but she could see that he was losing the battle.   
Before he slipped off, she grabbed his arm and whisked him up and over the side of the cliff, depositing him on the ground. She landed hard, going down on all fours.   
"Gatsuko," the young man said, taking her arm in his hand as he helped her stand. "You're wounded."  
Weakly, she waved her hand at him. "Dawn will be here soon, I'll heal. Don't worry yourself little brother."  
He opened his mouth to argue, when he was interrupted.   
"The rules are clear, Gatsuko," A voice said from behind them.   
She whirled, the Katana held at the ready. Although she knew that if it came down to another fight, the odds of her coming out the victor were slim, at best. But it wasn't one of Ugo's followers that greeted her.   
Instead it was three Geisha girls, standing together. One was wearing a midnight black kimono, the other a kimono the color of blood, the last, a kimono that reminded her of the fields of yellow flowers she had seen. Their faces were painted in the traditional manner of the Geisha, pure white with tiny blood red lips. The dark eyes bore into her.  
"Gargoyle shall not kill Gargoyle. You have broken the most sacred of the laws, the one in the black repeated."  
She breathed in deeply, feeling light headed and out of breath. "He tried to kill my charge. He would have killed me."  
"The cusps say otherwise," answered the one in red. "On one hand you would have been his, on another, he would have maimed you, but not have taken your life. A third, you would have escaped him. But you let your spirit, your emotions control you."  
Gatsuko stared at the trio, not quite believing her ears. "I had no choice. It was his life or mine. He has killed far too many humans to go unpunished. And it was time for the Ronin to be put down."  
"Only humans have killed Gargoyles, no Gargoyle has ever taken the life of one of their own. You act like a human, and you will eventually pay the price," said the Geisha in the yellow kimono. "Until your soul is deemed worthy of the honor that is Gargoyle."  
She shook her head, turning away from the trio. "I have no time for this nonsense. Dawn is almost upon us, and we both need our rest. She started placed a hand on Tetsuo's shoulder and started to limp away.  
"Heed our warning, Samurai. Your soul is to be punished for your deeds." the trio called out in unison.  
Anger flaring, Gatsuko whirled about, a retort on her lips. It died away. Where the three Geisha girls had stood, there was nothing but open ground. She placed a hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. "I must be delusional from the blood loss," she tried to convince herself. She looked at Tetsuo, and knew that he had seen them as well. Gatsuko shook her head but refused to comment on it.  
To the East, she noticed the first rays of light peeking out over the horizon. She had only a matter of minutes to find a safe resting place, away from the vengeful hungry humans that wished to destroy her and her kind, thanks to the years of highway banditry led by the Ronin Ugo.   
She took to the air and glided along the Cliffside, Tetsuo held in her arms like a babe. Eventually she did spot a small overhang that would be able to conceal her stone form from prying eyes.   
The golden yellow Gargoyle landed and crouched, watching as the sun climbed further and further over the horizon. "Get your rest, little brother" she whispered tenderly as she placed the young man on the floor of the alcove. He was fast asleep; exhausted by the struggle he fought to keep from falling.  
Golden rays caressed her nearly naked skin. She closed her eyes, knowing that the stone sleep was about to consume her.   
  
***  
The sound of the radio squawking brought Maverick to a state of half wakefulness. He blindly reached out for both his gun and the radio, knocking over a pot of water he had set aside for himself to make coffee with first thing in the morning. Snarling as the water soaked his bedroll he switched on the radio. "Brett here, what is it?"  
"Brett, we need you to start back to the ranch right now. Doppler shows one hell of a storm brewing up north cross the border into Alberta. The forecasters are predicting at least three feet of snow within the next thirty-six hours. Mount up and move out."  
Blearily, he wiped his face, trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind. "Ok, I'll head back right away. I should be back by nightfall."  
"Roger that. If you aren't back by then, we'll radio you. Might have to send a chopper in to pick you up."  
"No need," he growled. "I've been in far worse situations than this. Fireblast, if you only knew some of the storms tra..." he caught himself just in time. "Never mind, I'll radio you when I'm half way there. Brett out."  
He sat up and shivered in freezing night air. "Who the hell is Gatsuko and why was I dreaming about her?" Maverick wondered aloud, the dream still vivid in his mind. Mechanically, he began to pack up all his gear and placed it in the saddlebags. It took the scarred survivalist only a handful of minutes to get everything cleaned up and packed away.  
Thirty minutes later, he had his pinto saddled up and was heading due north, back to the Ranch. It puzzled him that he would still be dreaming about the golden yellow Gargoyle She looked so much like Kanthara it was uncanny. Gitana and Carmalita were still first and foremost in his mind, and they always would be. But what was it about this Gargoyle? He honestly hoped that he wasn't falling for her.   
  
***  
  
"Kanth!" The crimson Gargoyle called out as he landed in the large courtyard.   
The golden yellow gargoyle smiled and walked over to him. "Did you have a good time tonight, Brooklyn?" She asked. Lexington and Broadway landed behind him, all looking slightly tired.  
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, we did. Was great of Elisa to have us over. You should have come. Nothing like an all nighter of action flicks and lots of popcorn."   
Kanthara placed a hand on her hip and grinned at the trio, tilting her head slightly. "So, why do you three look so tired?"  
Broadway turned away, looking slightly embarrassed. Brooklyn threw a thumb in his direction. "Broadway decided to go and get a snack after the movies. We must have flew half way around the city looking for a blind vendor to buy his hot-dogs."  
Kanthara laughed. "Why didn't you wait till you got home? Broadway, hasn't Angela taught you anything yet?"  
Mumbling under his breath, the rotund gargoyle wandered away from the group.  
Lexington smiled and turned to follow Broadway. "I'm going to catch the morning news before the sun comes up. I'll see you later, ok?"  
"Watch the time Lex, you don't want to be frozen in front of the TV like you were the last time," Kanthara reminded the diminutive Gargoyle.   
"Don't remind me," he said with a laugh and disappeared into the castle.  
Brooklyn watched his rookery brothers depart. When they were out of sight, he turned to face her. "You should have come with us tonight, Kanth. All work and no play makes for a dull Gargoyle. "  
She wrapped her wings around her shoulders and crossed her arms under her breasts. "I just didn't feel like sitting around tonight. It's a beautiful night for this late in October. We've only got a few more weeks, at best, before the snow starts to fall. I didn't feel like staying inside. We have all winter, you know."  
Brooklyn stood beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "True, can't argue with you over that, can I?"  
The golden yellow gargoyle shook her head.  
"Your tense," Brooklyn said, feeling her rock hard shoulders through the flesh of her wings. "Want to talk about it?"  
She bit her lower lip and looked at him, her eyes wide and staring. She didn't want to tell him, not at all. She rarely ever confided in her gang members, usually only when it was something that affected them as a whole. On the streets, you couldn't trust anyone, so you had to keep your thoughts and secrets to yourself, least the person you confided in turned on you. But, it was different now. She was part of a clan, and they were closer knit than her gang had ever been - as much as it pained her to admit it. "Sure... we've been together for almost a year now. Remember Maverick?"  
The crimson Gargoyles eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Yes, how can you forget someone like him."  
"I can't seem to get him out of my mind," Kanthara admitted, turning her face away to hide the shame she was feeling. Inside, she was smoldering, angry with herself for admitting it. But she had to talk to someone. And Angela was too busy with Broadway.  
Brooklyn scowled and turned away. "I see."  
"Hey, you asked, I told you. Don't start acting like that Brooklyn," she said angrily.  
"Whoa, back off, Kanth, I don't want to get into a fight with you over this. Why have you been thinking about him?"  
Forcing herself to calm down, she took several deep breaths. "That's just it. I don't really know. There was something about him..." she let the sentence trail off.   
"You love him." Brooklyn stated. He looked incredibly wounded.  
"No! I can't deny that there is an attraction, but... he's human. I'm a Gargoyle now. Maybe it was the human side of me longing for what I was before."  
"So's Elisa. She's human, and Goliath. And look at them." Brooklyn said, his eyes narrowed even further as he crossed his arms under his chest.  
She stood next to him and took his long chin in one hand and placed her left hand on her right hip. "What, are you jealous?" Kanthara asked coyly.  
Brooklyn only grumbled under his breath.  
"I wouldn't worry about it, Brooklyn. He's gone and as you said, he has no intention of coming back."  
"So why is he still in your mind then?"  
Kanthara sighed and rolled her eyes. "I've been wondering that myself. I think... it's the loss I saw in his eyes. Like me, he lost his whole family. His whole world, to be honest. We share a kindred spirit because of that. He did a hell of a job bottling up his feelings. I guess it's because of the world he comes from."  
Brooklyn's stance relaxed somewhat. "From what I saw, he didn't look like the kind of guy who'd have any feelings other than those revolving around fights and killing."  
"Never judge a book by its cover," Kanthara glared. "All you had to do was look in his eyes."  
"But you do like him."  
"Of course I do. He's a fascinating man. All the things he told me about his life and his world. There is a true warrior. If only I'd have met him before Dracon killed my gang. I doubt that Dracon would have managed to get the drop on us the way he had if we had a man like Brett at our backs."  
Steeling himself, Brooklyn took a deep breath, recalling what Maverick had told him on the night they had met. "But if that didn't happen, you wouldn't have met me, or the rest of the clan." His words came out in a rush.  
She smiled at him, and caressed his long face. "That's sweet, Brooklyn."  
He looked away, refusing to make eye contact. Kanthara felt her heart melt. Brooklyn was such a contrast, tough as nails, but occasionally he let his softer side show. But very rarely.   
"But what makes you like a guy who's a killer?"  
You can be so damned infuriating, she thought to herself, but pushed it down deep into the recesses of her mind. "If you saw the way he looked at the picture of his daughter, or the way he talked about his wife and family, you'd understand. He may be a predator, but he has a good strong heart and soul. There is a man who's been through more hells than any of us can imagine, and he's far better because of it."  
"I'll take your word for it."  
"You better!" Kanthara laughed, feeling the tension bleed away.  
"Sun's about to come up, we better go join the others," he turned and started to climb the stairwell to the upper most tower of the castle. Kanthara's hand stopped him.  
"Brook?" She said softly.  
He turned and looked at her. "Yeah, Kanth?"  
"Thanks. I really needed to tell someone. And, I'm glad it was you."  
The beaked gargoyle smiled and continued climbing the stairs.  
  
***  
Maverick walked down the terminal towards the gate where his flight was about to depart. His mind was seething in barely bridled rage. When he had arrived the night before at the ranch, Clint Rogers had been waiting there for him. He laid the scarred warrior off, telling him that there really wasn't enough work to keep him busy over the next five to six months.   
But Maverick knew the truth. If he was stuck with the other ranch hands, the chances of a fight breaking out were too great for the Rancher to take. And deep down, Maverick knew that Rogers was right in his assessment. But it didn't make him feel any better.   
Rogers had driven him to the airport and before entering the terminal, he handed the scarred warrior an envelope. Inside was a check for his pay, of which Rogers had been decent enough to keep in an account for him, since Maverick never expressed any interest in using it while he was working. He had also included a heavy bonus, as the scarred warrior had single handedly saved over thirty of his cattle from predators and other natural mishaps. Included with the check was a ticket back to Manhattan, as well as a letter, inviting him back once the spring melts began sometime in late April.   
Maverick nodded to him and shook the other man's hand. Neither man spoke as they parted ways; both knowing it was for the best. He looked up at the large clock on the wall and saw that it was thirty minutes till his flight was due to board. After all these months, he was heading back to Manhattan, where his life had been changed forever.   
He went into the small airports cafeteria and bought a soup and sandwich for himself. The food was quite a refreshing change after eating nothing but trail food for almost six months solid. The server at the counter shied back from his scarred visage, looking distinctly afraid. He didn't pay any attention to it.   
It was something he was quite use to.   
As he ate his sandwich, he noticed people were staring at him. Back home, he would have confronted them, and most likely blood would have been spilled. This was a different world altogether both figuratively and realistically.   
He sensed the pressure of eyes upon him and he looked up from his meal. A tiny waif-like girl, no more than five years old was standing before his table, her big brown eyes wide with amazement. "Does that hurt?" she asked innocently.   
"No it doesn't sweetheart," Maverick answered her, smiling and trying to sound as non-threatening as he could.  
She returned his smile. "Did some bad man do that to you?"  
Maverick chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to decide what to say to the youngster. A lie would be the best he decided. "Nope, just had a nasty fall."  
A tired looking woman in her early twenties quickly scooped up the little girl, rewarding the scarred warrior with a glare that could freeze mercury. She carried the child away, muttering under her breath. The child peeked over her mothers shoulder and waved at Maverick.   
He gave the little girl the biggest smile he could manage and waved back. When mother and child had disappeared from sight, the warrior felt the irresistible weight of longing settle on his broad shoulders.   
Over the airports intercom, he heard the boarding call for his flight. He grabbed the remains of his sandwich and gathered up his jacket, and then made his way to the gate.   
  
***  
  
"Mr. Xanatos?"   
David Xanatos looked up from his paperwork. "Yes, Owen?"  
"I just thought I'd let you know. I received word from Clint Rogers earlier today. Mr. Maverick is on his way back to Manhattan."  
"Why is that?" Xanatos asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Owen dropped a small file on Xanatos' desk. "He has been laid off for the season. It appears that there were some... altercations."  
"Did he kill anyone?"  
"No sir. He put several people in the hospital, but no deaths were involved."  
Steepling his hands before his face, Xanatos closed his eyes in thought.   
"Sir?" Owen asked after a few minutes.   
"Send a car to pick him up. Bring him back here and we'll see about helping him get a place to stay in. Considering his temperament, he might do well as a guard in one of my warehouses or research facilities."  
The only sign of emotion Owen displayed was to raise one eyebrow slightly. "As you wish."  
  
***  
  
"Move out!" Roland shouted as he raced head on to meet the incoming Nazi soldiers. For weeks now they had been fighting a fierce hand-to-hand, house-to-house battle in the streets of Praig. It was the closing days of World War Two and they were pushing the last remaining forces of the Third Reich.  
Lieutenant Michael Roland of the 324th Light Mobile Battalion lead the charge. He was an impressive man, standing at six foot two inches and height and had a solid, muscular build. His face was streaked with sweat, dirt and blood, but none of it could hide the trio of scars on his cheek, a parting gift from a SS soldier two months before. A fanatical light burned in his gray eyes as he lifted his rifle and triggered it, dropping a single Nazi as he charged into the fray.   
His men were hot on his heels, not one of them wanting to be shown up yet again by their Charismatic leader. The two forces met head on. Guns were discharged, bayonets met flesh, fist connected fist. On one side, the soldiers were fighting for their very lives; they were the last bastions of the Reich in the Praig. If the city fell, they would be executed once they returned to the Fatherland.  
The other side knew that they were about to reclaim the city, one step closer to ending the horrific war that tore the world apart. All were tired, a soul deep exhaustion that would only be lifted once they could return to their homes and loved ones.  
Both sides had something to fight for and neither was going to give it up without the other paying for it in blood.  
Roland waded through the combatants, firing his weapon when he could, using it as a club when melee was called for. He turned as a young, blond haired trooper screamed at him, his skull tipped knife poised to strike. The weapon in Roland's hand seemingly moved on its own accord. The butt of the rifle swung up and connected solidly with the young nazi's chin, snapping his head back in a spray of blood and teeth. The young soldier dropped the knife as his hands went for his damaged face.   
But Roland wasn't about to let him off that easy. As the knife fell, he scooped it out of the air and rammed it into the young nazi's neck, burying it to the hilt. Another soldier struck out at him and he leaped back just in time to avoid having his guts spilled all over the battlefield. The soldiers bayonet slashed at his battle dress jacket, scoring a razor thin hit on his stomach but that was the extent of it.   
One of his men was on the attacker in an instant, batting the bayonet away with his own and slashing out.  
For the combatants, time seemed to stop. Their world consisted of nothing more than shouts of pain and rage, the scent of gunpowder, spilt blood and loosened bowels. There was nothing, no individual's just one massive organism that was bent on tearing itself apart.   
The fighting finally ceased.   
Everywhere laid the dead and dying, but the Allies had won the battle, and had reclaimed the city. A triumphant cheer tore from the throats of the soldiers still standing.  
Roland wiped the blood streaming from a deep cut that he had received during the fight. The wound bisected the trio of scars on his cheek. "That's it boys, we did it! Mop up, and lets get some serious R&R time."  
Unlike their enemy, the allied forces didn't just indiscriminately kill. Roland wouldn't allow that. If the enemy was too wounded to survive, and he would die in agony, the Lieutenant would shoot them and put them out of their misery. But those who did survive, those who could be saved, became prisoners of war. He pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and popped one in his mouth.   
"Sir, there are still a couple of stragglers left behind, but most of them are surrendering to our forces." A young Private named Benedetto told him.   
"Keep your eyes out for snipers. We're not quite out of the woods yet."  
"Sir."  
He leaned against the remains of a wall and allowed himself to relax for the first time in weeks. "Good job boys," he shouted out, smiling for his weary troops.   
One came jogging over to him and handed him a canteen. "So, Lieutenant, you going to stay in Spain once its over or are you gonna head back to the states?"  
Lieutenant Roland grinned and shook his head. "It all depends on what Rosalita has to say about it. She's pretty attached to her family and I gotta admit, I am too. I can see myself settling down on the coast."  
"You gonna marry her then?"  
"What do you mean, gonna?" Roland said with a twinkle in his eye and laughter in his voice.   
"You sly son of a bitch! And you never told anyone."  
"Damned straight. We got married a year ago. She gave birth to our first girl last month." He reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a photo, handing it to the soldier.   
He took it and whistled. "Where can I get a beauty like her?  
"They're all over the place, you just gotta open your eyes and start talking to them instead of running the opposite direction every time a pretty face in a skirt comes walking by," he replied, taking back the photo.  
Several blocks away a shot rang out. Roland looked over at the sound, his brow furrowing. He opened his mouth to give an order, but he found that his chest had become tight and he couldn't speak. He looked down and saw blood spurting from a hole right over his heart. He looked at the soldier and reached out, when his legs gave out. Roland fell forward on his chest, eyes staring into nothingness, the photo of his bride still clutched in his cooling hand.  
  
***  
  
Kanthara's eyes snapped open and she leapt out of her seat, her heart racing and her breath coming in ragged gasps.   
"Kanth?" Brooklyn asked, looking up from the magazine he was skimming through. The red Gargoyle stood up and took her hand, steadying her. "Hey, what's wrong?"  
She shook her head, trying to shake the vivid memories from her minds eyes. "Its... nothing. I just had a bad dream, that's all."  
Tilting his head to the side, Brooklyn stared at her, his eyes narrowed. "That must have been one hell of a dream, Kanth. You want to talk about it?"  
"No, it's alright, really. I've just had a long night. I'll be fine, really," she smiled at him.  
It was clear that he wanted her to go on, but he respected her enough not to push it. He returned to his seat and picked up the magazine while Kanthara went into the courtyard.   
"Who were you Roland, and why did you look so much like Brett?"  
  
***  
The 747 touched down at the John F. Kennedy airport just after sunset. Maverick patiently waded through the crowds of people trying to get off the jet. He was tired, barely having slept at all on the flight. Air travel was something totally unknown in the Deathlands. He knew from reading that Air Travel was one of the safest methods of getting from point A to point B, but he still didn't like. It.  
If man were to fly, god would have given him wings, like the Gargoyles. Or, he mused darkly; the white coats would have genetically engineered them.   
He was amazed that he had been able to control his temper as people jostled him and pushed their way past to get into the terminal. One person actually had the nerve to grab his arm and he just turned and scowled down at the offender who promptly let him go and mumbled an apology and quickly disappeared into the crowd behind him.   
Finally, he entered the terminal and went over to the carousel to get his luggage. He felt totally naked without his sidearm or other weapons but there is no way that he could bring them onboard. When Xanatos had him flown in his private jet, it was easy. He knew that he had to get the weapons replaced, and quick.   
It took only a couple of minutes to get his bags and he walked towards the exit, wondering where he was going to go. It was a huge city and he felt like a cornered bear, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Separation from humanity did his soul good, but it hindered his introduction to the rest of the species.   
The air was cool, but not as cold as it had been back in Montana. He figured it would be weeks still before the big apple saw snow. On the street there were dozens of taxi's waiting for customers. The drivers sat, looking expectantly at the crowd, waiting for fares. A black stretch limo with the Xanatos log was at the curb. Maverick instantly recognized the drive as Xanatos' head sec man. Owen stood as impassive as ever, holding the door open and waiting. "Your ride, Mr. Maverick," he stated in his toneless manner.   
The scarred survivalist stared at the car, seriously considering taking one of the many cabs that were lined up. "Where are you taking me?"  
"To Mr. Xanatos' tower. We received word that you were coming back so Mr. Xanatos decided that he would continue to honor his end of the bargain and help you out."  
"And if I refuse?"  
Owen's shoulders raised a fraction of an inch. "Then you refuse and go on your way. It's your choice, Mr. Maverick."  
Brett gritted his teeth. He hated being called Mr. Maverick. Sounded too damned formal to his ears. "Alright, what the hell, I'll go."  
Owen nodded and stood aside, waving his hand at the interior of the limo. Brett tossed his bags and climbed in right afterwards. He sat in the luxurious leather and crossed his arms under his chest. The door closed behind him and Owen slipped in behind the wheel.   
They rode in silence, which suited Maverick just fine. He didn't trust Xanatos or his henchmen, not one iota. But so far, despite the injuries he inflicted during their first meeting, Xanatos had stayed true to his word. He stared out the tinted window, not really watching the other vehicles. But instead, his eyes kept looking upwards, towards the overcast sky.  
  
***  
A few feet down into the alleyway Angela stood and handed over a handful of crumpled bills to the blind vendor. "Here you go, Al. That'll cover it for you."  
Standing out of sight was the hotdog vendor who plied his trade before the Xanatos monolith. He was a bit of an icon to the people who worked in the tower, having been around since before most of them had been born. He stood at five foot six and was neatly dressed in a pair of slacks, lightweight winter jacket and scarf. Upon his white hair rested a Yankee's cap, and he had a white scarf wrapped around his neck to fight off the nighttime chill. Dark aviator sunglasses hid his pearly white eyes from the world. "Thank you, Angela. I got to say, for a girl your size, you sure do pack away the dogs."  
The young gargoyle stifled a giggle and covered her face with her hand. "They're not all for me, most of them are for Broadway!"  
Al reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know, just joshin with you Ang. You should tell him to get off his lazy butt and come visit old Al sometime. The nights can get a little lonely you know."  
"I'll be sure to tell him. "  
"You do that. And tell the rest of them to stop by as well. You Gargoyles have got to start getting out more often and making friends."  
Angela laughed. "Somehow I don't think New York is ready to open up to us like that. Take care, Al. I'll be back at the usual time tomorrow."  
"I'll be here, pretty girl, I'll be here."  
The young Gargoyle was about to leap into the air when she spotted Xanatos' limo pull up in front of the tower. She followed Al as he pushed his vendor cart back onto the street and away from the Alley. Owen got out of the car and went to get the door. It opened and she spotted a scarred man, stepping out.   
"Brett Maverick," she whispered. "I better go tell Kanthara."  
  
***  
"Kanthara!" Angela called.  
"Yes?" She answered, looking up from the television."  
Brooklyn looked up from the magazine he was still pursuing, a mild look of curiosity showing on his face.  
Angela rushed into the room. "You'll never guess who I just saw getting out of a limo, down on the street!"  
The golden yellow Gargoyle shook her head. The clan had made a lot of friends, and even more enemies since they first arrived in the city. It could be anyone. "Well, are you going to tell me or not?"  
"Brett."  
Brooklyn's look of curiosity quickly transmuted into a scowl.  
"Oh," Kanthara said.  
"Are you going to go see him?" Angela asked, and then looked at Brooklyn whose scowl deepened.   
Kanthara steadfastly shook her head with her eyes closed. "No. He left without saying goodbye, and he had a good reason for it, I'm sure. If he wants to see me, or any of us for that matter, he'll come to us."  
Handing the two Gargoyles a hotdog each, Angela shrugged. "I just thought you might want to know."  
Taking the younger woman's wrist in her hand, Kanthara put on her best smile. "Thanks, Angela. It was good of you to tell me."  
Angela smiled and left them alone, taking the rest of the hotdogs to Broadway.   
"What?" Kanthara asked, seeing Brooklyn staring at her.   
"Nothing," he said, turning his eyes away.   
"Men," Kanthara snapped, standing up. She walked out of the room and headed towards the edge of the castle.  
Brooklyn sat in his chair, the magazine half raised. "What did I say?"  
  
***  
  
Maverick had to admit that he was pleased that Xanatos had given him the same suite he had when he first arrived in Manhattan. Everything was as he had left it nothing had changed.   
Owen stood at the door. "Mr. Xanatos will want to see you first thing tomorrow afternoon. I'll call you and tell you when he's ready. Feel free to visit anywhere you like.  
"Yeah, sure thing," Brett waved him off with his hand, hardly listening to what he said. The site of the couch, the windows, everything brought the memories flooding back. He chewed the inside of his lip, weighing his options.   
Dropping his bags on the couch, he shrugged out of his heavy jacket and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He went to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out a bottle of coke and stood there, silently taking in everything once again.   
Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see it was only a little after eight. He was a bit tired, but knew that there was no way in hell he would be able to sleep, not for a long, long time. His mind would be working overtime, replaying the memories of that fateful day almost half a year previous. He felt his eyes wander to the window where the golden yellow Gargoyle had crashed through, fearing that he was about to take his own life.   
"Kanthara... should I pay you a visit or not?" He pictured her smiling face in his mind and remembered the dream. It was almost as if he could smell her, feel her soft flesh against his hands. "Fireblast!" He snarled. "Stop thinking about that."  
He drank down the coke as he paced around the apartment. He would stop and sit for several minutes before getting up to pace once again. The pattern repeated itself for almost an hour before he angrily grabbed his jacket and headed to the elevator.  
  
***  
With the exception of Bronx and Hudson, the castle was all but deserted. Kanthara had seen Brooklyn leave an hour before with his rookery brothers. He never bothered to say where he was going, not that Kanthara had been inclined to ask. She stood as still as a statue, just staring out over the city, totally immersed in thought.   
She felt eyes on her, and she turned. Standing at the entrance to the great hall was the scarred warrior, Maverick.   
She opened her wings and hopped off the tower. With the softness of a butterfly's wing caressing a flower, she landed on the stone before the scarred warrior.   
"Hi, Kanthara..." he said.  
She slapped him and glowered.  
The blow sent the scarred warrior spinning and he collapsed to his knees, shaking his head. His eyes blazed with anger as he slowly stood up, rubbing his red cheek. For a second Kanthara thought he was going to attack her. Instead he gave her a pain filled smirk and chuckled. "I guess I deserved that."  
"You're damned right you did, bastard. Leaving like that without even saying goodbye. Why?" Kanthara demanded hotly. She was angry, and a little hurt, even after all these months.  
"I think you know the answer to that," he said, forcibly calming himself down.  
She threw her arms up in frustration and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Men. Dammit, just tell me, I want to hear it from your own mouth!"  
"Glad you didn't break my jaw," he muttered under his breath. "Ok, look... I miss my family. I am still hoping that there will be a way to get back to them. It wasn't right for me to get you involved in my life. You saved me, and I owe you big time for that. I will repay it in kind, some day. And there is your friend, the red one... what's his name again?"  
"Brooklyn," Kanthara supplied.  
"Right, now that boy, he's really taken by you. And besides, you're a Gargoyle; I'm nothing but a scarred, battered, bitter chiller. You'd do far better with him than with me."  
"Don't you think that is my choice to make? I sure as hell don't like people thinking for me," she snarled. She was extremely angry, but didn't fully understand why.  
Maverick shrugged helplessly. "Kanthara... I sure as hell won't deny it. I'm really attracted to you. I've not been with a woman since the night before I got dragged here." He closed in on her, leaning forward and breathing in her scent. "I am serious though. You can do far better than me. I've got way too much emotional baggage to carry around. The scars run deeper than the skin, you know."  
She stared into his gray eyes, the anger sliding away. "I carry my own scars. And what if I wanted you to be in my life? I mean... now Brooklyn and I, yes, we're close. But... "  
He shook his head. "You would only grow to regret having any kind of relationship with me."  
Kanthara took his hand between hers, and brought it up to her face.  
Both the human and the Gargoyle stiffened, their eyes rolling back into their skulls.  
The dream flashed into their minds, the one that they had shared many months previously. The intimacy, the pleasure and the feelings of longing, wanting, threatened to drown them.   
Maverick forced his eyes open and wrenched his hand out of hers. Once the contact was broken, the memories faded. Breathing deeply, they stood and stared at each other, the arousal obvious.   
"What... what just happened?" Kanthara breathed huskily. She folded her wings around her shoulders and covered her torso. Her nipples had hardened and it embarrassed her. She noticed that Maverick had turned to the side.  
The scarred warrior controlled his breathing and swallowed, his mouth dry. "I gotta tell you something..."  
"Go on," she prompted. The site of the man, the memories of the dream she had were almost too much to bear. She felt herself aching for the loving caresses she had experienced with him, even if it was only in her mind.  
"The day I left... I had a dream." He turned away completely. "You were part of it. We... made love. It wasn't sex. Feelings like that... it was love. I've never, ever touched a woman the way I did you. Except for Gitana."  
She listened to him. He was right. Kanthara had engaged in casual sex before. It was natural. But she couldn't honestly remember a time when someone had worshipped her body the way he had. "I don't understand it. Why did that happen? I only met you a few days before, but in the dream... it felt as if we knew each other from before."  
"Deja vu?"  
"But how? It's impossible. You're from an entirely different universe. There is no way that we could have ever have met before," Kanthara bit her lower lip and stared at him. "Or... maybe, somehow, we have."  
Maverick turned around. "I don't follow you."  
"That wasn't the only dream I experienced. Earlier, before you arrived, I had fallen asleep and I dreamed of a man named Roland. He was a officer in world war two." She stared at him, then lifted a hand and pointed at his face. "You and he could have been twins. You even shared the same scar on your cheek."  
Maverick looked as if he had seen a ghost. "I also had a dream. The other night before I left Montana. I dreamt about a female Gargoyle who looked like you. Her name was Gatsuko."  
The golden yellow Gargoyle frowned. "Don't bring up that name again, ok?"   
He eyed her curiously. "Alright, sure thing. Sorry."  
"I'm... I'm sorry. Its just that the name - it was my human name. I gave that up when I was still a girl." She burned inside. Memories of breaking a woman's nose crept into the minds eyes. Then again, the offender didn't know when to quit.  
He relaxed. "Ok, so we're still friends?"  
"Were we ever?" Kanthara asked, instantly regretting it.  
Maverick shook his head. "I though so."  
"Sorry... Yes, we were. We are. What does it mean though? This is no coincidence. How can we share a dream like that, and then dream about people who look like us but clearly are not us?"  
"I don't know. Mebbe if Joe was around, he could explain it. He's into all that weird outlander shamanism and shit. I can't explain it."  
She hugged herself. "I don't know who to ask or who to turn to about this. But we have to find out why it happened."  
Maverick looked at her, his face serious. "That we do. Look, I should get some sleep."  
"Ok. Brooklyn and the others will be back soon anyhow. I don't know how he would react to you being here."  
"Yeah, I don't want any bad blood. I'll see you later then," he turned and started walking to the main hall.  
"Brett?" Kanthara called out to him. "Don't leave like that again, ok? At least say goodbye first."  
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I promise."  
She smiled. "Good. I don't like losing friends."  
"Neither do I," he answered, then stopped once again. "You know, I wouldn't mind repeating that dream with you, despite everything. Do you want to come with me?"  
Kanthara flushed, and seriously considered his offer. To feel that love for real. "No, it would only cause too many problems."  
"Good answer. Night, Kanthara."  
"Bye, Brett," she called back after him. "God, now I need a cold shower!" 


	6. Chapter 6

First Night  
  
  
Maverick wandered down the long isle, swinging his nightstick back and forth in his right hand. His eyes had grown accustomed to the low light levels hours before, and he found that he was enjoying his solitude.   
It was his first night on the job. Earlier that day Owen had taken him to see Xanatos. The multi-millionaire had offered him a job as a security guard at one of his warehouses on the eastern side of the city. The salary was exceptionally generous, and he was even allowed to stay in the tower.   
Seeing no real alternative, and after hearing that he would be working with only a handful of people, and would be by himself most of the time, the scarred man took the offer and shook hands with Xanatos.   
Owen brought him to the warehouse right after the meeting and gave him the nickel tour of the facility. It was huge, bigger than most redoubts he had been in during his time with the Trader. He was shown the loading docks where goods were loaded and unloaded from trailers and ships, to be distributed across the states and the rest of the world.   
The section that he would be patrolling was where the sensitive electronic equipment was stored, waiting to be picked up. It was locked up tight at six PM and the doors were not opened until 8 AM the following morning. Sure the hours were long, fourteen hours long to be exact, but his duties consisted of patrolling the building once an hour, then sit back to keep an eye on the monitors while he listened to music, or read, or watched movies on the television that was provided.   
He was dressed in heavy jeans and had on a thick jean jacket. The Cerberus ball-cap was firmly nestled on his head and the only identification he was carrying was a photo ID badge with his picture and vitals. Xanatos had taken the time to arm him with a SPAS 15 shotgun, as well as an IMI .50 caliber Desert Eagle. They were his weapons of choice and the familiar weight felt wonderful.   
Maverick's footfalls echoed hollowly throughout the warehouse as he walked. A smile crept over his lips, and he felt content. "Mebbe things won't be so bad after all," he commented to himself.   
  
***  
  
Kanthara held the steaming cup of coffee in her talons and smiled at Brooklyn. "Thanks, Brook."  
"No problem," the red gargoyle smiled. "Nothing beats a hot cup of java after waking up from a long day's nap."  
She sipped from her cup. "Let me guess, Elisa got you started on this, didn't she?"  
"No, actually it was Hudson. He got hooked on it from a friend of his."  
Kanthara looked thoughtful. "The blind guy?"  
"Brooklyn nodded. "Yup. So, what are your plans for tonight?"  
"I didn't really have any. How about you?"  
"I was going to let Broadway and Lexington patrol tonight. Angela was starting to get a little tired of sticking around the castle all the time, so I offered to let her take my place." Brooklyn said, staring into his coffee cup.  
"I see," she smiled as she placed on hand over his. "So, where do you want to go?"  
Brooklyn finally met her eyes. "How about heading out of the city, maybe hit one of the beaches? Just the two of us."  
"That's a great idea! I'll go pack some food for us, and why don't you get something to drink?"  
He looked down at the coffee he was holding. "I guess this'll get too cold before we hit the beach."  
"I was thinking something more along the lines of some wine."  
His eyes raised in surprise. "Wine?"  
"Sure, why not? Tonight's a special occasion and it's not like we're driving or anything," Kanthara laughed.   
"What does driving have to do with anything?" he asked, sounding perplexed.  
"Never mind," Kanthara said. She turned away from him and drained the last of her coffee, then headed into the castle. Brooklyn followed her, taking a separate corridor that led to the elevator.  
She spent almost an hour preparing a meal for them, putting together sandwiches made of fresh cold-cuts, a large tossed salad for herself, and getting it all nice and neatly packed in a large basket. When she was done, Kanthara made her way out of the castle and saw Brooklyn waiting on the ledge, staring out over the Manhattan night. "Ready?"  
He turned and showed two bottles to her, as well as a pair of flute glasses. "And willing. Want me to carry that?" he asked, angling his head towards the basket.  
"Please," she told him, opening it so he could put the bottles and glasses into it. When he was finished, she closed it.  
"I was talking to Owen for a few minutes while I was picking out the wine," Brooklyn told her.   
"And what did he have to say?" Kanthara purposely kept her voice neutral. She didn't like the man, but she didn't want to ruin the night before it even started.   
Gracefully, he hopped onto the ledge and held out his hand to help her up. "Just told me that your friend Maverick accepted the job offer and started working tonight, that's all."  
Taking his hand, she let him pull her up so that she was standing beside him. "Did he mention where?"  
As one, they dropped off the building and instantly caught a current, lifting them high into the sky. "One of his electronic warehouses, on the docks."  
"I think I know the place - the one with the huge garden in the front?"  
Brooklyn nodded. "That's the one."  
"Lets stop by one the way back and say hi, alright?"  
They flew in silence for a handful of minutes before Brooklyn finally answered. "Alright, sure, what the hell."  
She let it drop. An hour later they were gliding gently over the late fall forests. Most of the trees had already shed their leaves but a few still clung tenaciously to the nearly barren branches. They spotted a deserted stretch of beach and landed gently in the freezing sand. A few yards off from the sand, there was a large wooden structure, one that was used for picnics during the summer months.   
Brooklyn walked over to the building and laughed. "Perfect! It has a firepit! I'll gather up some kindling, and you lay out the food."  
"Ok, sounds great," Kanthara said with a smile. She entered the small structure and dusted off one of the many tables scattered around. Picking up the basket Brooklyn had left on the floor, she opened it and began to spread the food over the table. By the time she was finished, Brooklyn had returned, his arms heavily laden with dead branches and twigs.  
"Man, that looks good," he told her as he arranged the dead wood in the pit. "Glad that I skipped breakfast."  
She tossed him a lighter that she had stashed in the basket, and placed a pair of candles on the table. "I packed plenty for both of us."  
He searched the building until he found a small box filled with old newspaper. Grabbing a handful, he placed it strategically around the kindling before lighting it. When he turned back to face the golden-yellow Gargoyle, she had a pair of sandwiches in her hand.   
"Here you go, one Roast Beef and one Tuna."  
"What about you? Did you pack more rabbit food?"  
She swatted him playfully. "Just because I prefer a vegetarian diet doesn't give you the right to insult me."  
"I wasn't!" He blurted, his face looking shocked.   
Kanthara's light laughter echoed through the bare trees that surrounded the small building. "I know, I was just teasing you."  
He took a bite of one of the sandwiches then sat down on a bench before the now roaring fire. Kanthara grabbed one of the bottles of wine and popped the seal, letting it bubble forth into the flute glasses that they had brought. She placed them on the bench and settled next to the red gargoyle. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"  
"Yeah, it is."  
"Is the food ok?"  
Brooklyn swallowed the last bite of his first sandwich and immediately took a chunk out of the second. "Really good. I'm surprised that you're such a good cook."  
Playfully, she slapped his arm. "And why's that?"  
His lips curled into a smile. "Didn't think you had the time to learn. You always seem to be so busy."  
"There are tons of things you don't know about me," Kanthara said quietly.   
"I hope to learn about them."  
She looked into the fire, and then turned to face him. "You will, eventually."  
He picked up the wineglass and drained it, then started coughing. Kanthara patted him on the back until the fit passed. "Take it easy! You need to sip it, not gulp it. This isn't beer you know."  
"Yeah, too sweet," Brooklyn hacked out.   
Long minutes passed as they stared into one another's eyes, until Brooklyn finally broke away, his shoulders slumped slightly.   
"What's wrong this time?"  
"I'm just a little nervous that things won't work out between us, that's all."  
Kanthara regarded him, resting her chin in her palm. "Because?"  
"Because, despite everything, you were born human. Maybe you'll find that you don't want to be with a Gargoyle, even though you're one of us now," he sighed.   
She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him until his head was resting on her shoulder, both looking up at the firelight dancing on the ceiling of the small building. "Don't let it bother you. If it's meant to be, then it'll happen. If it isn't to be, then there isn't any point worrying about it."  
He closed his eyes and took her arms, wrapping them around his chest. "You do make a good Gargoyle, that's for sure."  
Laughing lightly, Kanthara hugged him tightly. "And what makes you say that?"  
"Simple. You take the simplest solutions to problems. You don't bother going deeper than necessary," he said, smiling.  
"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted!"  
Brooklyn's light laughter echoed off the ceiling and floor of the small building. "Flattered, of course!"  
The two young Gargoyles spent hours talking into the night.  
  
***  
  
A dozen midnight black Mitsubishi motorcycles roared along the dock on the east side of the city. Each vehicle held a pair of riders, dressed similarly to one another, covered from head to toe in black leather. Their heads and faces were protected from the chill night air by motorcycle helmets.   
Driving in perfect unison, the small squadron of bikers pulled up alongside a ten-foot high fence surrounding a large warehouse and stopped their vehicles. From the lead bike a figure dismounted and slipped a heavy-laden backpack off and opened it. The driver sat motionless on the bike, watching the rider's actions as the rider removed a pair of bolt cutters.  
The lead driver lifted his arm and slid back the sleeve of his jacket and stared down at the illuminated face of the digital watch strapped to his wrist. Turning, the driver looked at the fence and waited.   
  
***  
  
Maverick opened the door to the security station and stepped inside, closing it behind him. He rubbed his gloved hands together, working the circulation back into them. It was cold, but he had been in much worse back in the Deathlands. Particularly up in what used to be old Canada, where the northern half of the country was permanently locked in nuclear winter.  
Picking up a pen, he checked off a list, then signed the sheet of paper and tore it off the pad. He placed it in an envelope and then dropped it in a safe. It seemed pointless to him, these strange security measures that his new job required, but it was better than doing nothing.   
Crouching, he stared into the almost full pot of coffee that was steaming gently on top of the desk. He ran a finger over the surface and smiled to himself, feeling the heat radiating from the glass. Maverick reached out and grabbed one of the older cups from the tray and poured himself a cup, letting the warmth filter through the ceramic wall of the mug into his chilled hands.   
The warmth quickly returned to his digits as he stood and walked over to the security monitor and tapped a key several times. The image shown on the device changed, showing various locations throughout the warehouse and the yard surrounding it.   
Just as he placed the mug to his lips, the lights went out and the monitor went dead. Seconds later, the emergency lights kicked in. In the space of a heartbeat, he had placed the cup on the table and had his SPAS 15 shotgun in his hands. Moving fast, he grabbed a pair of heavy goggles from a hook on the doorway and a long, thin flashlight. Placing the goggles on his head, he tore at the doorway and ran quietly into the pitch-black building. He stopped, and looked back into the darkened office. Owen had mentioned that if anything went wrong, he should activate the silent alarm. Maverick re-entered the office and went straight for the desk. Tearing open a drawer, he punched a single red button. He had no idea if it would reach the police or not, but at least he had done his job. Grinning wolfishly, walked back into the blackened warehouse, knowing that trouble was about to begin.  
  
***  
The basket now empty, the two young Gargoyles, one red colored, almost like rust, the other a golden yellow, glided on the cold currents of the early morning air. At two AM, the entire world seemed peaceful and asleep.   
Soon, the trees gave way to homesteads that lined the highway and beach of Upper New York state. Even as far out as they were, people could still be found in abundance. Many of the homes were in reality manors, owned by the rich and powerful who made their living in the sprawling metropolis of New York City.   
Even with their power and connections, many preferred the simple life, the near seclusion that only the countryside could provide. Kanthara couldn't really understand it, but that was because she had been born and bred in the big city. The countryside was as alien to her as the surface of the moon.   
She clasped Brooklyn's talons in her own and smiled at him. The red gargoyle grinned back and let her go, dropping low over the trees till he could almost reach out and touch the tops with his bare hands.   
The sprawling mansions quickly gave way to the suburbs of the great city, the forests replaced with neatly kept yards and small shopping centers, fast food restaurants and walk in clinics, specialty stores and video rental outlets. But the scene was still not to her liking. She preferred the concrete jungle, even with the predators that lurked in the darkness and beneath the city streets.   
Minutes later, they were over the industrial side of the city, following the Hudson River as they made their way towards Manhattan itself. She looked at the sprawling buildings below her, seeing familiar landmarks where she and her gang used to hang out together. The memories that resurfaced were painful, but she was able to push them aside, dwelling on the pleasant evening she and Brooklyn hand shared together.   
"There it is," Brooklyn yelled over the wind currents so that Kanthara could hear him.  
"What? What are you talking about?" She called back, slightly confused.  
"You going blond on me," he laughed and then ducked away as she tried to swat him. "That's the place where your friend is working, you know, Maverick?"  
Following his gaze, she spotted the huge warehouse and saw the neatly trimmed garden in the front. "Yeah, that's it alright. I don't know if we should stop in or not."  
"Change of heart?" Brooklyn asked, then dove down even lower and started a lazy circle of the building.  
Kanthara joined him, tilting her wings slightly so she fell into the same holding pattern. "I don't know, maybe it doesn't seem right, showing up on his first night of work like that."  
"Maybe we should drop in," Brooklyn said, and then pointed down at the road. "Looks like he's gonna have visitors no matter what."  
"This," Kanthara said breathlessly, spotting the dozen bikes pulling up to the fence, "doesn't look good at all."  
  
***  
  
With his hands on his hips, the lead driver paced back and forth before the fence. The rider stood off to the side, waiting, with the bolt cutters held at the ready. Just as the driver was about to check his watch again, the lights covering the entire block went out. He pointed at the man with the cutters and he instantly jogged up to the fence. Tentatively, he touched the edge of the cutter to the mesh.   
Nothing happened.   
Seeing that, the other bikers dismounted and withdrew a menagerie of weapons from their jackets and packs. Two of the riders broke away from the group and ran over to the edge of the dock. One grabbed onto the ladder and began to climb down.  
The others lined up behind the figure with the cutters and waited; their weapons ready to deal death.   
It took only a smattering of seconds for the figure to cut an opening large enough for two men to squeeze through, shoulder to shoulder. The driver went first, scanning the surroundings. Two by two, the rest of the figures slipped through the hole, the cutter joining them only as the last one entered the compound. He turned and watched as a large jet-black semi trailer pulled up behind the bikes. The driver opened the window and waved at him. The man with the cutters waved back and then turned and jogged off to join the others.   
  
***  
  
Below them, the entire block went black.   
"Whoa," Brooklyn almost shouted. "Something is definitely going down, and it's not good!"  
Pulling away, Kanthara glided over the roof of the building and landed next to an access door. She stood waiting until Brooklyn lighted beside her. "We better warn Maverick," she said, reaching for the handle.   
"Shouldn't we warn the cops?" Brooklyn stated, furrowing his eyeridges as he crossed his arms.   
"Do you have a cell phone?"  
"Good point, but we can still get to a payphone."  
She took hold of the handle and gave the door a sharp jerk. The handle came free in her hands and she pushed the doorway open, revealing a blackened stairway. "Not enough time," she said, stepping into the darkness. "By the time the cops get here, the thieves will be gone, and Maverick could be dead."  
He grabbed he shoulder to stop her. "Kanth, we're clearly dealing with professionals here. Look, they cut the power, they've got backup, god knows what sort of weapons they're carrying, and it's clear they know what they're doing."  
"All the more reason Maverick needs our help then," she pulled his hand off her shoulder and dragged him into the stairwell behind her.   
Sighing, he followed her into the darkness.  
  
***  
  
As silent as a stalking tiger, Maverick padded his way through the tall racks filled with electronic equipment. He paused long enough to attach the flashlight to the bottom of his shotgun and he flicked it on. No light spread from the end of the device, at least any that could be seen with the naked eye.   
Using advanced light amplifying technology, the entire warehouse seemed to be suddenly bathed in an eerie pale green glow. He stopped at the intersection between four large rows and held his breathing, listening hard to the surroundings around him. He could hear the faint scuffling of feet across concrete and the sudden snap of a door being forced open. The sound caused the scarred warrior to whirl around, as it was coming from the access stairway to the roof.  
Then, off to the right, near one of the huge loading docks he could hear another door being opened. The lights flickering off the river water glowed through the opening as the door was pushed aside. As quickly as it appeared, the light was drowned out by numerous figures passing through the entrance.   
"Nuking hell!" Maverick cursed as he counted at least a dozen figures entering the massive building. He was sorely outnumbered and he knew it. Reaching down, he patted the heavy, serrated blade strapped to his calf and let his hand run across the hard metal outlines of his sidearm.   
He had two spare magazines for the weapon, as well as thirty rounds for the shotgun. Even if he ran out of ammo, he knew for a fact that the intruders would be carrying blasters, and he could easily get what he needed off those he chilled.  
A predatory grin creased his scarred face. He felt more alive than he had since he arrived in this world. Fighting and killing was what he knew and what he did best. And it was what he was being paid to do.   
Protect Xanatos' warehouse, and don't be afraid to use deadly force if any intruders were armed. The words came back to him, having been briefed many hours before by the unsmiling Owen.   
The thought did cross the scarred survivalists mind though. What if they were not armed? He shook his head at the though and almost laughed out loud. If that's the case, then they're stupes. You don't need blasters to chill, and you know it. He told himself.   
Reaching up, he grabbed hold of the rim of a shelf and pulled himself onto it. There, he laid down on his stomach and surveyed the scene unfolding below and away from his position.   
  
***  
  
"Do you see him?" Brooklyn whispered as loud as he dared while peering into the blackness at the foot of the staircase.   
Kanthara shook her head. "No, but this place is so damned big, he could be anywhere." She almost yelped in fright as a hand closed over he mouth, then she relaxed, realizing that it was Brooklyn.   
His beak like mouth almost touched her ear as he spoke; "Quiet, got bad guys approaching."  
Sure enough, she could make out two figures as they passed an open intersection. Both were carrying SMG's and she could see the strange horn like outlines of the night vision goggles they were using. There was on distinct advantage to being a gargoyle that she was glad to have at the moment. She could still see. Not clearly, but if she was human, she would have been totally blind.   
Scarcely breathing, they waited for the trespassers to pass by, hoping that neither would turn and look in their direction. Brooklyn tapped her on the shoulder and made a vague gun with his hand, then ran a finger under his throat.   
Kanthara knew what he was telling her. To take on the armed figures would be suicide. But she refused to leave Maverick alone to face them. He was a warrior, and a skilled one at that. But no matter how skilled he was, there was no way he could face down the intruders by himself. She shook her head and closed her eyes. "No," the woman hissed.   
The red Gargoyle knew it was pointless trying to argue with her, so he shrugged his shoulders helplessly and stared at her. "Then what?"  
She bit her finger and thought about it for several seconds. "We're stronger, and faster, let's use that to our advantage."  
Brooklyn ran his hand through his snow-white hair and shook his head. "Yeah, but one shot is all it'll take. Remember what happened to Elisa."  
"Accidents happen," Kanthara whispered. She had heard how the rotund Brooklyn had almost killed Elisa a short time after she had met the Gargoyles. He had been playing with her sidearm when it went off, critically wounding the officer. Fortunately for her, she pulled through and all had been forgiven.   
"Yeah, well lets hope there aren't any accidents."  
A surge of adrenaline pumped through Kanthara's body as she slid out of the stairwell and into the warehouse. She could hear the voices of the intruders as they spoke rapidly to one another, issuing orders and commands. It didn't surprise her to hear Mandarin, as many of the Tongs and Triad gangs from the East Coast were gaining a strong foothold in what had traditionally been the territory of the old Euro gangs. No longer did the Mafia and the other old blood gangster's hold sway the way they had even a short decade ago.   
And since the Asians had moved in, she quickly discovered that they could be more ruthless and vicious than the worst of the Mafia. A sudden chill crept down her spine. "This is going to be really bad -"  
There was a loud rumbling noise as two of the corrugated steel doors began to slide into the ceiling and she could see the red glow of tail-lights as a pair of semi trailers pulled up to the loading docks. Before her she could see the intruders busying themselves, pulling box after box from the shelves and loading them onto forklifts and pallets to be loaded onto the trailers.   
"There's our chance," Brooklyn hissed, grabbing her shoulder and pushing it slightly.  
Kanthara looked in the direction that Brooklyn was pushing her and she saw three figures coming towards them. It was clear that they hadn't noticed the two Gargoyles, as they were intent on scanning the rows of boxes that were stacked neatly in the shelves. One had a small electronic device open in his hand, and it was clear that he was scanning it, while the other two were pushing handcarts.  
Together, Kanthara and Brooklyn made themselves as small as possible and crouched at the intersection, waiting for the figures to pass by.  
One of the figures stopped only a scant meter away and barked out a sharp order in Mandarin. The other two immediately began to pull boxes from the shelf and load them onto the carts they had brought with them.  
Stealth was something Kanthara was exceptionally good at. She moved like a wraith, coming out of the crouch and wrapped her hand around the mouth of the speaker, and one around his waist. Effortlessly, she pulled the speaker away from the other two and into the intersection without making a sound.   
The intruder had been taken by surprise so much so that he didn't even struggle for the first handful of seconds. When she felt his body tighten up, she released his torso and slammed her fist into the back of his skull. She remembered to pull her punch as she could have easily caved in the bone, killing him. That is something she wanted to avoid doing if at all possible.  
The other two stopped their work and called out in Mandarin, clearly asking where their companion was. Kanthara managed to stifle a giggle as their queries became more and more insistent. Footsteps approached the intersection.  
Brooklyn stood up as the two figures rounded the intersection. He reached out with both hands and grabbed their weapons and yanked violently. He ripped the sub-guns from their grip and crushed the metal in his strong talons.  
Looking strangely bug like with the night vision goggles secured around their heads, the first one dropped instantly into combat stance, his legs bent slightly at the knees and he held one fist out before him, the other held near to his left cheek. The other yelled in surprise, instantly alerting the rest of the intruders to the fact that they were not alone.  
  
***  
  
From his hiding position, Maverick watched as the trespassers moved around the warehouse like ants over a corpse. He watched as two of the loading dock doors opened and as pair of semi trailers pulled up.   
The scarred survivalist had to admit that he was impressed with the professional manner the thieves displayed as they began to strip choice goods from the shelves and load them onto forklifts and handcarts that they grabbed off the floor. They were spread out over the entire warehouse in groups of two and three. Although they were armed, it was clear that they were not expecting too much in the way of opposition. The scarred man smiled wolfishly at the prospect. They had never met a man who had grown up in the Deathlands, and most would not live long enough to care.  
A pair passed beneath his position. Both were armed with HK MP5's, almost identical to the sub-machinegun of his choice. He waited in silence, not even breathing as they passed.   
Careful not to let his weapons scrape against metal or wood, he eased himself out of his hiding spot and dropped silently to the floor behind the figures. Maverick was careful not to look directly at them; instead he concentrated on the shelves behind them as they walked. The human psyche was un-usual in the manner that it worked. He remember how his father drilled it into his head that when stalking prey, you should never think about what you were hunting directly, be it human, mutant, or animal. For some reason, the prey could sense that they were being watched, and usually it meant the loss of surprise. Loss of surprise could very well mean the loss of life for the hunter.   
Maverick wanted to keep things as quite as possible, so he shouldered the shotgun and left his handgun leathered. In his he held the 8-inch long, serrated edged hunting knife. The balance was a little off, but he could still use it with deadly efficiency.  
Staying low to the ground, he crept up behind the two targets and sprang into action. He had to move swiftly in order to maintain the surprise factor, and the quicker he took out the two intruders, the less likely he would alert the others, until it was too late for them to take action.   
He struck with the speed of a cobra, savagely raking the edge of the blade across the throat of the first man, then following through by grabbing the man's head as he brought his hands up in surprise to the gaping wound that had suddenly appeared on his throat. Wrenching with all his considerable might, Maverick snapped the man's head and let the body slide to the floor. Less than two second had passed, and the other man had just then registered the danger.   
But it was far too late to do him any good.   
Normally Maverick would have lashed out with his boot, but instead he closed in on the other man, driving him backwards and down the corridor. Maverick stood almost a foot taller than his target and had easily sixty to ninety pounds on him. With surprise on his side, he quickly overcame the smaller figure and wrapped his arms around his targets torso, pinning the other man's arms to his side. Then he squeezed.  
The pressure exerted was so great the intruder was unable to draw a breath to scream. He tried to struggle against Maverick's incessant pressure, but the scarred warrior never relented for a second.   
Unable to breath, the intruders struggles rapidly weakened and finally ceased altogether as he passed out. Maverick let the body slump to the floor and he swiftly sliced the intruders throat, killing him.   
It was then he heard the surprised yell from several isles away.  
  
***  
  
"This is not good!" Brooklyn growled, throwing one of the now useless weapons at the intruder who was in the combat stance.  
Kanthara pounced like a tigress on the other who had started to yell out a warning. "Ya think?" She called back just before she smashed into the other target.   
The first man twisted aside, letting the damaged weapon fly past without hitting. It impacted against the metal shelf with a near deafening clatter. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he lunged at Brooklyn, his two fists whirling blindingly fast as he lashed out. It was all the red Gargoyle could do to avoid the blows, but several broke through his defenses and landed hard. Brooklyn's head snapped back as he took two consecutive hits to the face, snapping his head back. Blood flew from the Gargoyles beak like mouth and he could see stars dancing before his eyes.   
Kanthara was a street fighter, and not a half bad martial artist too boot. Using her superior strength she quickly wrestled the intruder down to the floor and pinned him. The man tried valiantly to shake her off but he couldn't budge her. Almost casually, she rapped her fist on the top of his head, breaking the goggles and sending him off to la-la land.   
Another series of blows rocked Brooklyn, knocking the gargoyle off his feet. He landed hard on his back, what little air remaining in his lungs was forced out by the impact. All the while the attacker was cursing in Mandarin, the words getting more and more clipped with each blow.   
"Hey, you!" Kanthara snarled in a challenge. The attackers blows slowed to a stop and he turned to face her. He started to laugh and then spoke in perfect, unbroken English. "You chose the wrong place to be at monster,"  
She saw red.  
The rage that swept over her surprised the speaker. She flipped off the man she had just knocked out and landed only a hand width away from the speaker. He clearly hadn't expected to illicit such a response from the golden yellow Gargess. Snarling, she drove her fist at the attacker's head. He ducked and her hand smashed into the floor next to him, the force of the blow shifting her off balance.   
He rolled away, coming up into a crouch before she could recover. Striking out, his hand caught the tip of her chin, snapping her teeth together. She bit back a cry of pain and quickly recovered from the blow, following through by whipping at his unprotected legs with her long tail. The semi flexible appendage caught him at the edge of the knee. He cried out in sudden pain and lost his footing.   
By this time Brooklyn had recovered enough to lend a hand. The reddish Gargoyle clamped his right hand onto the intruder's leg and pulled hard. The man was thrown completely off balance and he slammed into the floor, his legs going into a perfect split.   
A weak cry of agony pushed past the intruder's lips as he grabbed at his genitals and he slumped face first into the concrete.   
Even Kanthara winced in sympathy as the intruder shuddered once and laid still. "That's gotta hurt," she breathed, the anger quickly abating.   
"Lets find Maverick and get the hell outta here," Brooklyn spit out a gob of blood and rubbed his jaw. "No way we can handle all these nut-cases on our own -"  
"Mebbe you can't, but I can," said a voice from behind them.  
Both Gargoyles looked up at the sound of the voice. Maverick was standing only a scant meter from them, the shotgun held loosely in one hand, the barrel pointed at the ground. "What in the fireblasted hell are you two doing here?"  
"Trying to help you, what does it look like?" Kanthara replied hotly.   
"Looks like you're going to get us all chilled. They know that were here, and now they'll be hunting our asses." Maverick said as he reached down and grabbed Brooklyn's hand and hauled the red Gargoyle to his feet. "Now I want you two outta here!"  
A loud stuttering filled the isle and a stream of bullets smashed into the crates and boxes right where Maverick had been standing only a moment before. Snarling, he shoved Brooklyn out into the intersection where the red Gargoyle slammed into Kanthara, carrying both to the floor. Before they hit, Maverick had already dived to the ground and rolled under the shelf, getting himself clear of the attackers line of fire.   
Several voices called out in Mandarin. Maverick could hear the sounds of footfalls all around the huge building, and he could tell that they were approaching his location. He didn't bother to wait to see what had become of the two Gargoyles, instead he crawled as rapidly as he could under the shelves and kept his eyes open, watching the floor around him. He closed his eyes for a second to weigh his options.  
  
***  
  
Grunting, Kanthara pushed Brooklyn off her and stood up. Brooklyn rolled into a crouch and shook his head, his eyes glowing hotly in the anger he felt. "What the hell is this? Pick on Brooklyn night?"  
Kanthara didn't reply. Deep down, she knew that Maverick was right. Both she and Brooklyn should get out while the getting was good. But she didn't want to leave the man behind. A warrior he might be, but with the scarring he carried, she had her doubts about his skills. "We're not leaving him behind."  
There was no point in trying to be stealthy any longer. Brooklyn jumped and grabbed hold of the metal rack and used his strong talons to climb with great speed and ease. "Didn't say that we were going to," He told her, seeing that she was following.  
Together, the Gargoyles hunkered down among the boxes and crates at the top of the shelf. Kanthara risked looking over the lip of one of the boxes and could clearly see that the intruders had broken up into two groups. There was on figure standing between the two open loading docks, shouting orders to the others. The intruders were working twice as fast as they had been when they first arrived.   
"Got em spooked, I figure it's only a matter of time before the police arrive," Kanthara said in a stage whisper."  
Brooklyn merely nodded, rubbing his slightly swollen chin. "They got guns," he said.  
"So? Brett's armed, and he's used to dealing with situations like this."  
"Who you trying to convince, me or yourself?"  
Kanthara didn't reply.  
"Got any idea how we're going to help him get out of here without getting his stupid ass shot off?"  
"Maybe," she said, running her hand over her white Mohawk. "We just gotta figure out where he went first, and use our gliding and natural weaponry to our advantage."  
Brooklyn just shook his head and shrugged. "These boxes, they might be of some use."  
"Yeah, a nice little electronics avalanche," Kanthara grinned, hefting one of the large crates. "Up for a little bombing run?"  
It was clear that he wasn't, but he didn't want to abandon the scarred warrior anymore than she did. "Yeah, what the hell," he said.   
"Let's just find out where he is first," Kanthara said, scanning the isles around them.   
  
***  
  
Maverick waited as five pair of booted feet ran past his position before he rolled out from his hiding spot. He stayed low, checking the surroundings; his ears open to the slightest sound. "Think man, think - " he growled to himself.   
For a minute he considered heading back to the office and alerting the police, but he wasn't entirely sure if he would even be able to call out. With the power cut, he had no idea if he could use the radio or the telephone.   
There was only one clear-cut solution, other than running, open to him. He had to cut down their forces, as quickly as possible, forcing them to retreat. He didn't want to abandon his post, not on his first night of duty.   
Dropping to all fours, he scanned the isles around him. Just to the right, he could see two pairs of boots slowly making their way towards the nearest intersection. Grinning, Maverick stuck the barrel of his shotgun under the isle and pulled the trigger. The 12 gauge 00 buck blasted from the barrel of the weapon and hit the walker just above the ankle. The foot was blown clean off, and the shot continued through, peppering the man's other legs and ricocheting off the floor and metal wall of the shelving unit.   
The wounded man screamed in agony and even as he began to fall, Maverick shifted his aim and fired on the other target. The results were almost identical. Both men were on the ground, screaming in pain as their lifeblood pumped out onto the floor from the torn stumps where their feet used to be.  
He wasted no time. Crawling out between them, he grabbed their dropped MP5's, then put a single round into the heads of both men, killing them. Hearing more weapons fire, and the sound of running feet, he took off like an Olympic sprinter, tearing away from his position. The familiar stuttering sound reached his ears, as at least one of the intruders homed in on his position. But so far, that made it six intruders down, four permanently. The odds were slowly starting to move in his favor.  
  
***  
  
Two tremendous blasts tore through the warehouse, followed almost instantly by hideous screams of pain. "There," Kanthara said, looking in the direction of the blasts, and nodding. "That was a shotgun, and none of these people are carrying them."  
Stuffing several of the larger boxes under his arms, Brooklyn peered over the ledge to make sure that the coast was clear. He then heard the sound of gunfire coming from two isles over. "If we're going to do this, we better do it now."  
Kanthara nodded and took hold of one large crate, almost as large as she was. "Lets do it."  
Together, they jumped off the top of the tall shelf and glided across the two isles. Since there was no air movement inside the large building, they could only glide for short distances, and had difficulty in turning. But they were silent, and the attackers didn't know they were there. Kanthara spotted a trio of men running, all of them firing their machine pistols as they moved. Looking down the isle, she could see Maverick sprinting for all he was worth.   
Letting gravity take over, she glided lower and lower until she was only a few feet above the men pursuing the scarred warrior. One turned around and looked up just as she released the crate. Throwing his hands up and crying out, the man was hit squarely by the flying object. Amazingly enough, it shattered on impact, spewing hundreds of small electronic components like shrapnel into the two others who were with him. All three men went down, unable to keep their footing on the now treacherous floor.   
It was clear that the man who had suffered the brunt of the attack was down for the count.   
Kanthara tried to climb, but she had lost too much altitude and she had no choice but to land. As she passed over the two prone figures that were struggling to regain their footing, she lashed out with her talons, tearing long rends along their backs. The gouges were deep, and exceptionally painful, but not life threatening. Both of the intruders were down for the count.   
Brooklyn soared over her head, and quickly disappeared from sight. Turing around, Kanthara looked at the three figures on the floor. Stepping quickly, she stripped off the night vision goggles from the men and picked up their discarded weapons.  
Several isles over she heard a loud shattering bang. Brooklyn must have dropped the crate he had been carrying. Less than a second later the stuttering of the machine pistols and steady reports from a large bored handgun reached her ears. She felt the blood drain from her face, knowing that the firing was directed at Brooklyn. Folding her wings around her, she sprinted forward, but kept low to present less of a profile to any would-be attackers.   
Something rounded the corner and slammed headlong into her. She screamed in fright and anger and began to struggle with the figure, until she noticed the red flesh and the gleaming white hair. Relief flooded over her, realizing that it was Brooklyn. "Are you alright?" Kanthara practically shouted.  
Detangling himself from her, Brooklyn climbed to his feet and pulled her up. "We're in deep trouble, and I think Maverick's not gonna make it."  
Snarling, Kanthara thrust one of the weapons into his hands. Brooklyn stared down at the almost alien device, staring at it. "What am I supposed to do with this?"  
Kanthara spun around on her heels and spotted movement coming towards them. She crouched and aimed the Mac 10 machine pistol at the oncoming figures and pulled the trigger. The weapon spewed round after round towards the figures, and she moved it back and forth in a figure eight pattern. The gargoyle had no idea if she actually hit anyone, but at least the intruders scattered and dove for cover.   
Brooklyn frowned deeply, but raised his weapon. It was then that he noticed that Kanthara had stopped firing. "Now what?"  
She lowered the weapon to her side and peered around the corner. She could hear shots ringing out throughout the huge building, knowing that Maverick would be on the receiving end. "Find Maverick and get him the hell outta here, no matter what."  
  
***  
  
"Fucking Fireblast!" Maverick shouted as wood chips and sparks erupted all around him. He was hunkered down between two shelves with several large metal and wooden crates toppled around him. No less than six of the intruders were nearby, firing almost non-stop into the makeshift barrier. The scarred survivalist had already been scored several times by flying splinters and blood flowed freely from several gashes on his face and hands.  
Without looking, he hefted one of the MP5's he had taken from one of the dead invaders and fired it over the edge of the crate. He seriously doubted that the fire would have any effect, but it might keep the attackers heads down. "Where the fuck are those mutie loving cops?" he snarled, half in anger half in fear.   
Another volley of lead punched into the crates. If anything the amount of return fire had doubled. Several large chunks of wood were blown clean from the crate he was leaning against. Chunks of damaged electronic gear poured out of the gaping holes, and Maverick knew that his meager shelter was about to give way.   
To him, there was only one clear coarse of action. He had to make a run for it, either get to better shelter or get out of the building. Even though he scarred warrior had killed several of the intruders, it only seemed to work against him. The survivors quickly banded together to hunt him and the two Gargoyles down. They were no longer moving about in small groups. Another shot tore through the crate and plucked at his jacket sleeve. There was no more time left to mull things over.   
Maverick pushed himself into a crouch and popped the nearly empty clip from the submachine gun he was carrying. He rummaged in his pockets and found that he was out of ammo for the weapons. Cursing himself for not stripping the bodies more thoroughly, he tossed the now useless weapon aside and lifted his shotgun. Taking a deep breath, he coiled his legs under him and sprang forward. Even before he cleared the small stack of crates, he was firing the shotgun at the attackers that were spread out before him.   
The move was nothing short of suicide, but he hoped that by being so bold that it would shock the attackers enough to give him a few seconds to escape.   
Luckily for him, the plan of attack actually succeeded.   
The attackers were indeed shocked by the bold, but clearly suicidal move on the part of the scarred warrior. Several of them scattered as he fired his weapon, jumping out of the way to avoid the incoming buckshot.   
The lull in the attack lasted less than two seconds. But it was enough. Maverick charged the intruders like a runaway train, never relenting on the trigger of his weapon. One lucky shot caught a man right in the throat, the double oh buckshot taking his head clean off his shoulders. The remaining intruders tracked the racing madman with their weapons but were forced to hold their fire, for fear of hitting one another.   
As quickly as the attack had come, Maverick was gone from sight.   
  
***  
  
Running beside Brooklyn, the golden yellow gargoyle strained her ears to hear past the almost never-ending barrage of weapons fire. It seemed to be concentrated in one part of the warehouse, only a short distance from where they were.   
As if reading her mind, Brooklyn nodded. "It has to be, no one else is here!" He jumped from the floor and scaled the nearest shelf. "C'mon," he called down.  
Kanthara didn't need any further prompting. She glanced from side to side, making absolutely sure that they were alone and then stuffed the machine pistol into the belt of her pants and followed Brooklyn up the shelf.   
From their vantage point, they could see the bright flashes of weapons fire concentrated on one isle, near the loading docks. Maverick had made it that far, but must have been trapped. Just then, the firing stopped and she could make out the distinctive boom of Mavericks shotgun, and she saw one of the attackers fall, and then second later, the firing commenced, only to stop again.   
"Hey, what is that crazy bastard doing?" Brooklyn asked, his voice belaying his disbelief as he watched the heavily muscled man run right between the two groups of attackers. It was clear his destination was the loading docks, where the intruders were piling the stolen goods into the semi trailers.   
Kanthara shook her head in amazement. "I have no idea, but at least they're not firing -" The sudden crackle of weapons being discharged filled the warehouse once more.  
The scarred survivalist weaved and ducked as he ran, but the sheer volume of fire took its tool. She saw a small fountain of blood spurt from his left side, and then a perfectly timed shot spun the man around, where he fell. A strangled cry of horror seeped from her lips, as she was certain that the warrior was dead. But to her amazement, he swung his shotgun around, and triggered the weapon.   
This act surprised the intruders as well, as they were not expecting him to react after being hit.   
Brooklyn elbowed her and hefted the machine pistol she had asked him to take. He aimed at the closer of the two groups and fired. The weapon bucked in his hand for only a moment before he got it under control. The machine pistols cyclic rate drained the magazine in a handful of seconds, but it caused the men in the group to scatter.  
The action took the golden yellow gargoyle by surprise, but only for a second. She ripped the weapon out from her jeans and fired on the second group. Already they had shifted their aim from the scarred warrior and were searching for the location of the new attackers. Inside the darkened warehouse the muzzle flashes were a dead giveaway.  
All around the two gargoyles bullets flashed and ricocheted off the containers and shelving unit. Brooklyn grunted in pain as several rounds plucked at his wings, drilling neat holes in the flesh. The red gargoyle threw the now empty weapon at the attackers and jumped off the top of the shelf, landing unsteadily on the next row. Kanthara on the other hand, stayed put and popped the spent magazine from the weapon and rammed a fresh one home. The gargoyle ducked and aimed her weapon from memory, firing it blindly.   
The return fire abated slightly, so she crawled to the edge of the shelf and let herself fall to the floor below. The sounds of running footsteps reached her pointed ears so she wasted no time. She tore down the isle, and skidded around the first intersection she came to. Without looking, Kanthara jumped up and scaled the nearest shelf, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Brooklyn or the scarred survivalist.   
It was then that her ears picked up the distant sirens.   
  
***  
  
Searing pain tore through Maverick's side as a round punched home. He stumbled, but was able to keep his footing and he quickly changed direction, hoping to confuse the enemy fire. But the odds were against him. Another round smashed into his shoulder, causing the survivalist to spin in a complete circle He wasn't able to keep his footing and fell heavily to the concrete floor. The pain from both wounds tore through his body like wildfire, but he forced it down. He had been injured far worse in the past, and the pain was mild in comparison.  
Shifting his shotgun to his left hand, he aimed it at the nearest of the intruders and fired. The range was too great to have any real effect, but it did cause the intruders to duck and cover. Firing from the top of one of the shelves erupted in the middle of the group, causing them to scatter further. A second weapon added its fire to the first, but quickly died out as the ammunition was depleted.   
Maverick didn't waste his time. He scrambled to his feet and half ran, half dodging, towards the nearest of the two trucks. The sounds of sirens filled the night, and the scarred survivalist smiled grimly despite the pain. Help was on its way.   
The smile faded as quickly as it had come.  
Before him the doors on the two trucks slammed shut and both started to pull away from the loading docks. He could hear someone shouting orders in Cantonese, and even though he couldn't understand the actual words, he got the meaning loud and clear.   
The intruders were pulling out.   
He dove through the open dock and tried to catch hold of the door, but missed by inches. The scarred warrior landed hard, almost breaking his ankle in the process. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he snarled as the two trucks rapidly gained speed.  
Looking over his shoulder, he could see the remaining intruders scattering and heading towards the nearest exits.   
Using the edge of the dock as cover, he crouched and ripped open one of the pockets on his vest. From it, he pulled out a magazine for his shotgun and slammed it home. Scanning the huge lot, he saw the intruder's bikes. Already several of the thieves had reached the vehicles and were taking off after the trucks.   
Maverick held his fire. At this distance all he would be doing is wasting ammunition. Already the pain from his two wounds had dulled to a mere throb. "Fuck this," he yelled, jumping up. The last of the intruders had just finished mounting his bike and kicked it to life. Maverick dashed from his hiding spot towards the remaining bikes.   
  
***  
  
Bounding across the top of the shelf, Kanthara spotted Brooklyn as he made his way towards her. The warehouse was eerily silent as they reached one another. "You ok?" She asked, her face belaying the concern she was feeling.   
"Yeah, nothing that a good day's sleep wouldn't fix," Brooklyn frowned, fingering one of the holes in his wings. "Did you get hit?"  
She shook her head. "No, but Maverick's down."  
Brooklyn's frown deepened into a scowl. "No, I saw him get up and he headed for the trucks. Last I saw of him was when he tried to jump onto one and missed."  
Kanthara shook her head in disbelief. "After getting shot twice he still went after them?"  
He nodded. "The guy is tough, I'll give him that," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wincing as the movements on his wings irritated the small wounds. "They've pulled out."  
"Let's get Maverick and see how bad he's hurt, let the cops deal with the thieves," Kanthara told him, gently caressing the flesh around the bullet holes. "We'll have to get him to a hospital."  
"If he goes, it'll be in cuffs," Brooklyn reminded her. "He did kill several of them, after all."  
Kanthara knew he was right. "He was doing his job though, protecting the goods. This is private property - "  
Brooklyn was already climbing down the shelves. He didn't want to use his wings more than he had to. "Come on, Kanthara, use your head. If anyone knows how the cops are, it's you."  
The golden yellow Gargoyle glared at her companion; "And what's that supposed to mean?" She responded hotly.   
Carefully folding his wings, Brooklyn dropped to the floor and half ran, half jogged towards the open loading bays. "Just that you were the leader of a gang, and you've told me many times how often you had been in trouble with the law."  
Deep inside, Kanthara was blushing. He was right, but the heat of the moment had gotten to her, and she wasn't thinking clearly. It bothered her deeply to see the scarred warrior injured, more so than it should. "I know, sorry," she said testily.   
They watched as the warrior mounted one of the bikes and tore out of the parking lot, just as the first of the police cars appeared around the corner.   
"Shit," Kanthara swore, as she shook her head. "We gotta get out of her ourselves!"  
Brooklyn looked at the remaining bikes, and then tilted his head to the left, grinning slightly. "It hurts too much to fly, but not to ride!"  
"You're kidding, right?"  
The red Gargoyle shook his head. "Nope, I'll follow the nutbar on the bike, you take to the air."  
Kanthara nodded and used her superior strength to climb the side of the warehouse, while Brooklyn ran towards the nearest bike. He hopped on and hit the ignition just as Kanthara reached the pinnacle of the building. Revving the engine, the red gargoyle fishtailed for several yards before straightening out. He raced through the open gate just as the first police car pulled up, skidding to a halt to avoid hitting the racing motorcycle.   
The door of the vehicle flew open and Elisa stepped out, her gun drawn and aimed at the Gargoyle for a split second, until she recognized him. "Brooklyn?" She hollered after the speeding bike. Several more cars roared past, clearly in hot pursuit of the fleeing Gargoyle and the Triad gang members.  
Kanthara glided down to the vehicle and landed lightly beside it, and found herself quickly surrounded by several cars and more than a dozen armed officers. Ignoring the armed men, she opened her mouth to speak when Elisa held up her hand. "What's going on here?"  
"A group of Triads or Tongs just raided the warehouse, and Maverick is going after them."  
Elisa raised one eyebrow and lowered weapon. "Maverick? The guy from - ", she stopped speaking as Kanthara nodded.   
"Xanatos hired him to act as security for this building. It was his first night on the job." As the golden yellow gargoyle spoke, more police cars arrived on the scene and officers ran towards and into the building.  
Elisa nodded. "Do I want to know what happened here?"  
Looking sheepish, Kanthara shook her head. "No, actually you don't."  
"I see," Elisa said, holstering her pistol. "Alright, I'll cover for you and Brooklyn. Get going and we'll discuss this tonight."  
Kanthara clasped the other woman's shoulder gratefully and then ran towards the nearest building.  
  
***  
  
The pain was all but gone from the two wounds the warrior had suffered earlier. The cold night air whipped his hair around his face and stung his eyes. He wished that he would have taken the time to grab a helmet, but it was too late to worry about it now. In the distance, he could see the bright red taillights from the semi and the remaining motorcycles. They were gaining distance on him and fast.   
Leaning over the handlebars to reduce the wind resistance, the scarred warrior opened the throttle and tried to close the gap. The motorcycle almost shot out from under him, while the rear of the bike fishtailed on the slightly frosted roadway. It took him several seconds to regain control of the bike, but he found that he was starting to gain on the trailers.  
Maverick resisted the urge to whoop in delight. The ride was even more exhilarating than riding horseback, but he still preferred the feel of living flesh between his legs. Vehicles, in his opinion, were not as reliable as a living, breathing animal.   
Then again, it was rare whenever he had a chance to ride something in as good condition as the bike was. Most of the vehicles were cobbled together from dozens of sources, usually held together by bailing wire, as well as a hope and a prayer.   
Stealing a glance over his shoulder, he could see the lights from the pursuing police vehicles several blocks behind. He couldn't hear the sirens, as the wind whipping past his head made it all but impossible to hear anything.   
He did notice another bike, closing slowly. Turning his head forward, he withdrew his large caliber handgun and made sure the coast was clear, before looking once again at the pursuer and aiming the weapon in his direction.   
  
***  
  
Brooklyn whooped loudly as the motorcycle tore off into the night. He threw his fist in the air and grinned broadly from ear to ear. The bike handled like a dream; better than the one that Lexington had built years before.  
Ahead of him he could make out the taillights of Maverick's bike, about a block ahead. At this rate he would catch up to the scarred survivalist in less than a minute.  
From Maverick's position, there was a sudden, but brief flash, and the red gargoyle blinked slightly. "What the hell was that?"  
Two more flashes burst from Maverick's position and the small windshield at the front of the bike shattered in a hail of glass shards. The glass peppered Brooklyn's face and torso, several cutting shallow grooves along his skin. Swearing savagely, Brooklyn fought to keep control of his bike, but the vehicle fishtailed heavily and then tipped over. Brooklyn jumped free of the bike. Luckily for him, he had enough momentum to gain altitude, even though it hurt like hell.   
"You stupid asshole!" He screamed into the wind after Maverick.  
  
***  
  
Three shots rang out and Maverick grinned as he saw the pursuing bike swerve then go down. But the smile turned to a frown as the rider leaped clear of the downed bike and used the air current to climb into the night sky.   
"Oops," Maverick grimaced. He would apologize later. How was he to have known it would have been one of the Gargoyles pursuing him, especially on a Motorcycle?  
Ahead of him he could see that he had gained almost two full blocks on the trailers and bikes. They were quickly leaving the docks, and the group suddenly split up into two smaller groups, the bikers dividing up evenly between the two trailers.   
The newly formed second group took an off ramp and headed towards the heart of the city, while the other trailer maintained its trajectory, never veering from course. Maverick had only seconds to make his decision about which on to pursue.   
Roaring past the off ramp, he continued to close the distance between himself and the remaining semi. Glancing down at the speedometer, he was shocked to see he was traveling at almost one hundred miles an hour. The distance was rapidly decreasing, and he could see that the remaining bikers had spread themselves out around the semi, two in the rear, and several riding shotgun beside it.   
Maverick opened the throttle even wider and he roared closer still. The massive handgun was still in his hand, and he took careful aim at the nearest of the two bikers. The rider threw a glance over his shoulder and he could see the man visibly start, at seeing the pursuer.   
Just then, a police helicopter tore over the Maverick's head, clearly heading towards the truck. He looked up and could see a single officer strapped to the chassis of the rotary wing vehicle, a heavy M60 Machine gun in his hands, supported by a tripod mounted on the side of the door.  
Despite the raging winds around him, he could hear the helicopter pilot ordering them to pull over and put their hands in the air.  
The man on the bike raised his fist and fired a MAC 10 at the officer standing in the door. The rounds missed, several spraying off the metal body of the helicopter. It caused the pilot to veer off.  
Maverick snarled and aimed his hand cannon at the driver. He didn't go for anything fancy, just aimed at the center of the speeding bike. Even if he missed the driver, he might be able to damage the motorcycle enough to force it to stop. He squeezed the trigger three times. The first two rounds had no visible effect, and it wasn't possible for him to tell if he hit the bike or the driver. But the third round slammed home, crashing through the engine of the bike and it started leaking fluids.   
Valiantly, the rider tried to keep control of the bike, but he lost control and skidded sideways for almost a quarter of a block, before the bike hit the curb, sending it flying end over end into the side of a warehouse. The driver was thrown clear, but when he hit the road he rolled almost one hundred feet before coming to a stop and not getting up.   
Tearing past the downed cycle, Maverick continued to pursue the remaining bikers. As he tried to close the gap, he saw a battle open up between the bikers and several police cars that had appeared from the side streets.   
"Why risk my ass any further," he said to himself and gently hit the brakes, slowing the motorcycle down. Once the speed bled off enough, he slid the now open hand blaster into its holster and pulled off to the side of the street.   
Another Helicopter appeared overhead and shone its powerful search light on the scarred warrior. He slowly raised is arms and waited for the police cruisers to arrive.   
  
***  
  
Panic raced through Kanthara's veins as she saw Maverick open fire on Brooklyn's motorcycle. Her blood ran cold as the windshield shattered and Brooklyn lost control of the vehicle. Folding her wings close to her body, she shot out of the sky, in an attempt to help her friend.   
When the red gargoyle jumped clear of the bike and became airborne, the relief she felt was almost overwhelming. Grabbing a down current, she glided in next to Brooklyn and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You ok?"  
Brooklyn was still swearing like a sailor, but he took several deep breaths and tried to calm down. "No, I've been shot, beaten, abused, and mistreated. I'm not ok!"  
"I'm sorry..." Kanthara said. "I'll make it up to you somehow."  
Before Brooklyn had a chance to reply, a police helicopter passed them. It slowed long enough for the co-pilot to get a look at the two Gargoyles before it continued. Anything that Brooklyn had said was lost in the noise of the rotors.  
"You're not the one who needs to make it up, it's that trigger happy idiot!" Brooklyn retorted angrily, his eyes blazing. He ran his hands through his white hair and frowned, getting angrier by the moment.   
"Calm down, Brooklyn," Kanthara demanded. She felt her own anger growing. She was quickly coming to regret wanting to visit the scarred warrior, considering the way things ended up turning out.   
Ahead, they watched as Maverick pulled his bike to the side and put his hands in the air, as the helicopter approached. "Good, maybe now he won't kill anyone else," Brooklyn said nastily.   
For some reason, the comment irritated the golden yellow Gargoyle. "He was just doing his job, you know," although she had to admit, Brooklyn had a point. She felt her anger ebbing away, finally.   
A number of police cruisers sped past them to come to a screeching halt around the scarred warrior. From the lead car, Elisa stepped out, her sidearm drawn and pointed at Maverick.   
Looking at Brooklyn, Kanthara shrugged helplessly. "What should we do?" She asked.   
"Go home. Nothing we can do for him now."  
"But, he was shot!" Kanthara said, climbing so that they were above the scene.   
"He looks pretty good from here," Brooklyn said, looking down at the commotion below.  
Kanthara followed his gaze. He was right, she had seen him shot twice, but he seemed to be moving just fine. "How - "  
"We can ask him later," Brooklyn told her. "The sun's gonna be up soon, lets head back to the castle. "  
Catching another current, the two Gargoyles headed towards the heart of Manhattan and home.   
  
***  
  
"Freeze, and keep your hands in the air!" Elisa ordered as she stepped out of the cruiser.   
Maverick looked at his hands, already raised, and shrugged. He didn't say a word as several officers surrounded him. One of them grabbed the gun out of his holster and handed over to another man, who promptly placed it in a plastic bag.   
"You have the right to remain silent - " one officer began to drone on, as Elisa approached. Maverick kept his mouth closed, but never took his eyes off the woman. He visibly winced as one of the officers forced his hand behind his back and threw a pair of metal cuffs on his wrists.   
"Easy, Brad, can't you see the man's been shot?" Elisa said, looking at the blood covering his jacket. "Someone get this man an ambulance!"  
"No need, I'm fine," Maverick informed her. And it was true, the wounds were all but gone, just a dull throbbing remained as the nanites finished repairing the damage the bullets caused.   
"Who are you and just what the hell do you think you were doing?" Elisa demanded, holstering her gun.  
"Brett Maverick, and my job," Maverick said.  
Snickers broke out around him when he mentioned his name. The scarred survivalist rolled his eyes and waited. The officer that had cuffed him removed his wallet and tossed it to Elisa. Opening it, she scanned the identification and furrowed her eyebrows. "You work for Xanatos," she said.  
He nodded. "Yeah, head sec man at one on of his warehouses."  
"I see. Well, Mr. Maverick, you are under arrest."  
The scarred survivalist sighed. "For what? Doing my job?"  
"For manslaughter, and possibly murder."  
He blanched. "Murder? Hey, let me tell you something lady, those stupe bastard rejects broke into the warehouse and were cleaning it out. They were armed to the teeth, and it was pretty fireblasted clear what they were going to do to anyone they found."  
As he spoke a paramedic came up to him and started to inspect the bloody holes in his jacket and shirt.   
Elisa shook her head, "There will be a thorough investigation, that I can promise. But for now, you are to remain in police custody, until the investigation is complete."  
The medic stood up and looked slightly stunned. "I can see discoloration, as well as two fresh scars that appear to have been made by bullets, but, that's it. No entry or exit wounds, nothing!"  
Maverick shrugged. "Guess they missed."  
"Explain the blood then," the medic retorted.  
"Probably from the gangers I chilled."  
Shaking her head, Elisa motioned to a pair of cops who took Maverick to one of the awaiting cruisers. "Shouldn't have said anything," she said with a frown.  
Ducking his head, Maverick couldn't help but agree. "One hell of a first night on the job, wouldn't you say?"  
The officer closed the door and the cruiser sped off towards the heart of the city.   
  
END 


End file.
